Mademoiselle E
by Spicy Sith
Summary: Years before the fifth V still has to deal with the skinny little demon that invaded his home. AU, slightly chan eventually. A sweet story, just what you need after too much angst and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Mademoiselle E**

**Chapter I**

"My love!"

He knew what was coming but still had barely enough time to close the door and remove the knives around his waist before a whirlwind of thin limbs attacked him and wrapped him in a welcoming hug, fast as lightning and very tight despite the smallness of her frame. Then all he could do was hold the weapons on one hand and the canvas bag on the other. Both were heavy but nothing he couldn't handle.

He had to admit it was very nice to come back home and have such a warm welcome waiting for him. In difficult nights things of that sort helped him cope with his work and just knowing she'd be home waiting for him made him want to come back on one piece for reasons that had nothing to do with politics or revenge. Sometimes she reminded him of a little tree monkey, with her tendency to jump and then cling to him with arms and legs.

The first time she'd attempted to do it, both ended on the floor and he had to control defensive reflexes that hadn't expected her to do that and considered her affectionate reaction a real threat. It was so stupidly funny that he laughed for a good minute, probably not the best thing if he wanted her to be more careful and start behaving like a lady. After that she came up with a lighter version of it saying that –he- needed training, and she'd still attack him with a quick jump but she'd settle for wrapping her arms around his neck, tight enough to support her weight, and she'd hang from his neck and at a good number of inches above the floor for as long as he would let her, even if he was moving from room to room. The arms plus legs hug came later once –he- had learned.

"Oh, so I'm your love now? This afternoon you called me a stiff-backed Halloween voodoo scarecrow." He just had to tease her once in a while and remind her in a good-humored way that her mood swings turned her into a disrespectful little beast. He'd loved her since the beginning.

"V, you were nagging me over nothing!"

"Hmmm…"

"It was just an old flick!"

"My dear E," Yes, now she insisted he called her that; apparently she wanted a letter of her own. "It was _Caligula_ you were attempting to watch, the director's cut even."

"So? If it's good for you it should be good for everyone else." It was fun to scold the little beast, especially if she managed to pout like that, squeeze him with arms and legs, and defend her point of view, all at once.

"So? So I believe right now it would be a little too much for you. But you are smart and it won't be long before you can watch that film and any other you'd like. For now there are other things more appropriate for you."

"Oh, so you let me play with guns but I can't watch an old movie?"

He just had to laugh. He loved her rebellious spirit, even if sometimes it turned against him. That spirit had kept her alive and combined with a remarkably sharp mind, produced a very interesting combination. There were also very dark corners inside that little body, not of the sort caused by cruelty inflicted upon an individual but something completely of her own instead; one of those oddities of nature that from time to time produced charming little demons, half irresistible and half frightening. Sometimes he could catch a glimpse of those dark corners in her brown eyes, eerie and even perverse, but when put next to his, the result was some sort of bizarre and surrealistic harmony. In their private reality they were well-adjusted and perfectly functional, what the rest of the world would call "normal".

"First of all, I don't let you play with guns; I teach you how to use guns –and- you always practice under my supervision. I would have you use paintballs as well but in this place and age it's easier to find real ammunition."

She rolled her eyes and that announced the rebellion was over for the night, or at least it seemed to.

"And shouldn't you be in bed already, mademoiselle E?"

"I was! I'm on my pajamas, see? I went to the bathroom, heard the locks and ran to greet you."

"So if I understand correctly, you were not up waiting for me or doing God knows what with my things in the makeup room but actually in bed until you had to piss, which by coincidence happened just as I was coming in, right?"

"Uh huh."

"That would mean your bed should still be warm if I checked."

"Uh…"

"I suspect it's actually quite cold and I also believe my wigs will be full of knots." He finished presenting his empiric evidence and tilted his head in a benevolent gesture of forgiveness. "Did you remember at least to push the covers aside and lie down for a short while to give the right impression of someone sleeping there recently as I taught you?"

"Yeah!"

"Good girl. Well, I didn't expect you to be awake but since you are, I have something to show you, unless you prefer to go to bed after smothering me so thoroughly."

He hated to ruin the party but it was late, he was tired and dirty, and the brat shouldn't cut her sleeping hours short. It would be best to hurry. After all she was on a tight studying schedule he'd put her on and even more important; at 14 she was still growing. Not much really but she was healthy and vigorous so it was probably a matter of genetics and he expected her to become a pretty petite lady. She was a perfect teenager in any other sense or at least as perfect as he could expect coming from a girl with such a troubled past.

He'd found her a little over a year ago, one cold winter night. She'd been living in the streets like a rat after she'd escaped the Juvenile Reclamation camp she'd been sent to after her parents had been black-bagged and killed like so many other citizens. He'd been scouting alleys, looking for new routes and very busy taking notes on the positioning of surveillance cameras when his sharp senses let him know he had company.

The shadows were dark enough and once alerted of that other presence in the alley, it was easy for him to slip out of sight and hide properly to listen. It sounded like a muffled sob, behind the mountains of garbage he'd already seen, piled against a wall. He heard it for the third time and his curiosity made him forget for a short while why he was there in the first place. He ventured out of his hiding place and slid without a sound to where the sounds were coming from. He looked down and his gaze was returned by a pair of terrified brown eyes. He felt the impulse to escape before he was even seen clearly but those eyes below him guessed his intent and two desperate tears became his downfall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mademoiselle E**

Chapter II

The thought of walking away vanished and before he could think about it, his hands were already removing garbage to dig out whoever had been unfortunate enough to end up there. Blood, he could smell it before even seeing it. There was a considerable amount of blood covering a human face but he could still tell it was a young girl, not properly dressed for the cold season, gagged and very dirty. Someone had tied her slim arms behind her back, taping them together from elbows to wrists and from the number of bruises all over her, had obviously spent a good amount of time beating her. Then she'd been thrown out with the garbage.

The gag was something especially insidious; her nose was broken and there was no way enough air would fill her lungs with her mouth obstructed like that. She'd probably swallowed some blood as well. Whoever had done that expected her to die slowly not as a result of the beating but weakened by exposure and asphyxia.

The girl whimpered, probably thinking he was considering leaving her or fearing her attackers would return. She was very close to hysterics but didn't seem to have the energy for it and settled for weeping.

"Hush," He said, examining the gag and then pressing one gloved finger to porcelain lips. "Do not move, child, I will remove this." Her eyes kept looking up at him with a faint hopeful expression and she stayed very still even as the tip of a knife slid carefully under the tight dirty rag to cut with great caution. She waited until he was done cutting and dared not breathe until he'd removed the gag completely.

"Can you breathe?"

"My nose…"

"Yes, I know. Can you breathe regardless?"

The girl nodded her head, weeping with renewed vigor. V could hear the faint but distinct sound of the surveillance patrol approaching. He'd also lost track of fingermen in the area and without a second thought picked the still tied up girl, instructing her to remain quiet. She winced every time he touched her but wanted to get away from that alley as much as he did and surprisingly followed his instructions without hesitation.

V held her close to his chest like a babe and covered her small frame with the dark cape, trying to make her pale skin less visible and at the same time keep her warm. He could feel her still sobbing but trying really hard to be quiet and cooperate as much as she could. Home, he had to take her home –his home- right away. It never occurred to him that she could belong someplace else.

He moved as fast as he could through back streets and under bridges, carrying his delicate prize safely wrapped in wool but his perception of time was playing tricks on him and the trek back home that should have taken less than half an hour seemed to last hours. An unpleasant cold feeling in his back refused to leave him and it wasn't until he entered the last section of underground tunnels that he managed to feel free from it.

His gloved fingers reached the first hidden panel and quickly pressed keys to enter complex security codes that disabled the outer perimeter and opened the next section of tunnel where a second panel awaited instructions to open the third and last section, at the same time sealing the outer perimeter to strangers. Just a few yards down the corridor the heavy wooden door waited to welcome the master of the house with its delicate carvings and iron hinges.

Home, they were finally home, V thought, sighing relieved. There was still one last security code to enter; the verbal order that opened the last locks to his underground sanctuary. He was especially fond of it; he'd spent days playing with circuits in order to make it all seem like magic. He found it at the same time naïve and poetic.

"Open sesame."

--------------------

"Show me! Show me! What did you bring?"

"I've brought something you've been asking for…"

"What is it, V? Tampons? Candy? Lip-gloss? I ask for a lot of things!"

"That couldn't sound more incriminating."

"Ow! So what is it?"

"Well, all of the above plus a little extra. You've grown quite a bit and I think it's about time your curiosity is satisfied, consider it one of those things to know about before the fifth. If you still want to help me, that is…"

"The fifth is years away! We have lots of time, y'know."

"Time flies, my dear E, and we cannot waste it."

"Okay."

"Come; let's take this to the kitchen, shall we?"

"Oh, to the kitchen! Then it must be serious…"

"Yes, actually it is. So, should I carry you or can you walk?"

------------------

"Can you walk, child?"

It wasn't until after he'd crossed the threshold and closed the wooden door that he dared looking at his guest, still hidden under the cape. The little face looked far worse under better lights and the poor girl seemed about to collapse to either unconsciousness or sheer exhaustion. V wasted no time with hypothesis, choosing instead to take her straight to the bathroom where he kept a good supply of things that unfortunately he'd made frequent use of in the past. There would be time for conversation later counting the girl wasn't in worse conditions than he thought.

He kicked the bathroom door open and laid her carefully over the tiled floor near the medical supplies cabinet, still wrapped in the cape he'd just unfastened. All his weapons, hat, tools and electronic devices ended up on the counter and even the gloves followed. Everything that slowed him down was removed. He turned to make sure she was still conscious and reached down, looking for a pulse on her neck. It was slightly fast, but strong and steady. She was warming up as well, one less thing for him to worry about. All the activity around her helped to dissipate some of her stupor and she started crying again, little sobs mostly, probably all she had left by then.

V finished opening and closing drawers and packages of supplies which he emptied in a plastic box and focused on the girl again; in his haste to bring her back home he had not noticed her ankles were taped together as tightly as her wrists and one of her small shoes was missing. He didn't know why that was of any importance but he still noticed it and it made him sad. He knelt on the Italian tiles and took a pair of scissors from the plastic box he'd brought near her and very carefully cut the tape around her ankles and then the one keeping her arms behind her back.

As he feared there were bruises under bruises and a bitter taste crept up his throat; he'd certainly add a couple names to the list of people he owed a visit to. But first the girl; he cupped her face and called her to make her pay attention; it was very important that she stayed awake to make things easier for him.

"I'm very sorry, child, but I'm afraid I'll have to strip you and then take a quick look everywhere to make sure you are not badly hurt. Will you forgive me for doing so?"

At first she didn't seem to understand what he was saying but at least she was awake and listening. After a few seconds she nodded her permission and that was all V needed to make liberal use of the scissors and cut the filthy clothes he already hated. His detail-oriented mind created a tag to remind him later to burn those awful rags and all of a sudden it seemed a sacrilege to let them stay on her for one more second. Everything ended up in a far corner of the room, too offensive even for the garbage bin.

If her clothes were dirty, she was in no better condition, something that could easily be fixed with soap and water but the trauma part was what worried V and he busied himself examining her all over, starting with her head. Except for the broken nose her breathing seemed normal, her skull was in reasonable condition and she had no broken teeth.

"Can you move?"

"It hurts…"

"I know. You'll have to forgive me as well for not giving you something for the pain until I'm done assessing your wounds. Then you can have as much as you want."

Her belly felt soft under his fingers and nothing seemed to hurt there; at least her crying did not become more intense. If V could judge children's growth correctly he could say that the girl wasn't yet an adolescent but she would be in probably six months or a year, counting she survived. He would have to make sure she did. He checked her very visible ribs and only one seemed slightly cracked, very painful but not lethal. Even tied up she'd been smart enough to curl up in a tight ball and stayed that way, protecting her internal organs at the expense of her limbs, which had taken the worst part with a sprained ankle that could well be broken and a very tender knee. He'd focus on them later.

He moved with haste, seeing, touching, and taking mental notes on everything that needed cleaning and mending. Then he hesitated briefly but decided it would be in her best interest if he were thorough and completed his task. He thought it was better to go right ahead and sighed relieved at finding that the beating had not included rape as well. White, he needed something white… He moved to open the counter's sliding doors behind him to produce several white bath towels, all clean and neatly folded. The one at the top was unfolded and carefully slid under the girl's body, replacing the dark wool she'd been wrapped in.

"There's a nasty bruise on your lower back. I'm going to ask you to piss for me right on this towel. Yes, I know it's odd but I have to know if you are hurt inside, in your kidneys." The girl stared at him for a few moments, not quite rebelling against his request but apparently gathering enough mental energy to follow his instructions.

"Good, very good. No blood at all. We'll be done soon."

"Okay…"

In the cabinet there were several vials available and waiting for a syringe, all of them full of wonderful and potentially addictive analgesics. All V had to do was reach up and pick one for her. It was just like selecting a bottle of wine and he wanted the right one; something soft in consideration to her smallness but still effective, something that would make her sleep peacefully and relax her clenched muscles, something simple, something basic. Yes, something basic; a bit of good old morphine was still among the all-times favorites. He broke the vial and filled the syringe with the right amount of liquid after calculating her approximate weight and put it aside to look for cotton swabs and alcohol to clean the inside of her elbow, hoping to find a vein under the grime.

"Now I'll have to realign your joints and broken nose. I'd much rather have you sleeping for that. You won't feel a thing and when you wake up you'll feel much better."

"No!"

"What?"

"No sleep!"

"Child, I'm not going to manipulate your nose and your limbs with you fully awake to feel it."

"I don't want to sleep!"

"I assure you I know what I'm doing."

"You'll leave me!"

All of a sudden the world was very quiet and all he could do was stare at the little beast, once more near hysterics and grasping his wrist with strength that surpassed her shivering frame. She was afraid of being abandoned and if she stayed awake she could do something to prevent it. Of course, it made sense from her point of view. He sighed, thinking.

"I won't leave you, I promise."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay…"

V thought it would take far more negotiating but she looked reassured enough to let go of his wrist and even offered her arm to the needle, squeezing her eyes shut. Once out it was far easier to maneuver her leg and make sure ligaments and tendons in her knee weren't torn or out of place, then the nose, once he'd spent some energy on the leg –he didn't want to hurt her face more than necessary- and at the end the ankle that would only require bandages. The bruises and cuts would need ointments, antiseptics and a few stitches, and there was also the problem of lacking antibiotics simply because he'd never needed them but a quick visit above would be enough to have him well supplied. In the meantime he really wanted to do things properly and wash her before anything else.

Well, he could as well fill the tub and give her a proper bath; only God knew what else was under all that blood and grime. He let the warm water run as he picked strong soap and washcloth, deciding that the best way to move her without risking hurting her was to take the edges of the bath towel under her on both her sides, roll them together all along her body and lift the whole living package without moving her much.

He checked pulse, breathing and pupils once more before picking her up, hoping he hadn't misjudged her weight and the correct amount of morphine. The girl looked perfectly stable and he made sure he had everything he'd need for her bath right at hand, including a stool for him. He chuckled at the thought of having to wait while she literally soaked in the warm water and rolled up his sleeves, wondering if he'd also need to find a flea collar for her. All considered, he was feeling much better already.


	3. Chapter 3

MADEMOISELLE E

CHAPTER III

There wasn't enough hair cream in all of England to help work those knots out, or at least there wasn't enough in his bathroom. V pondered cutting the girl's hair already but that would have been too… blunt. No, he was a man of wit and determination and he'd comb that hair properly even it if took him the rest of the night. He'd already spent over one hour scrubbing her pink and a bunch of messed up hair wasn't going to defeat him. He pondered using a myriad of powerful chemicals but settled for something absolutely harmless that even Leonardo in a bad mood would have approved; warm olive oil straight from the kitchen.

He had already finished sterilizing and mending the girl's cuts with great care, using the finest sutures only and pouring a drop of the purest honey on each one of them to prevent infections and stimulate healing. The bruises would have to take care of themselves mostly but the ointments would help to reduce swelling and pain. There wasn't much he could do about the cracked rib but knee and ankle were carefully medicated and wrapped with spotless bandages while the small bottle of olive oil warmed up in a cup of hot water.

The job was almost done and only then he stole a minute to take a good look at his skinny guest, sleeping the sleep of morphine and almost done with her bag of intravenous saline solution, warm and comfortable over the bathroom counter, safe and tightly wrapped in her white cocoon of bath towels. It wasn't probably the best time to judge aesthetics considering the bruises but it was definitely a very pleasant face, with a high forehead, arched eyebrows, big brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes, full lips and a pair of the cutest freckles, one on each cheek.

The bottle of olive oil had warmed up to V's liking and he removed it from the cup of hot water, reminding himself to start combing at the ends. It was slightly illogical unless already experienced, that he'd have to begin at the ends. He poured a small amount of oil in the palm of his hand and began the task of massaging the wild mane to make the oil reach each hair. It was still a battle against frustration but armed with the right comb and enough oil, V eventually managed to work out the knots and removed a fair amount of dead hair. Most ends were split as well but he was too tired to spend another hour trimming her hair. Just thinking on split ends seemed insane enough already. On the positive side, his hands hadn't been so soft in a long time.

V picked a fresh towel from the depleted pile and wrapped the girl's head carefully to let it absorb excess water and oil without him having to take care of it himself. He considered cleaning up the bathroom already since he was still standing and could use a bath himself but decided to spend his last quid of energy in taking her to bed and making sure he had not given her too little morphine or even worse, too much. The bag of saline emptied and he removed the needle from the properly hydrated kid's arm, sealing the small wound with tape.

"Come on, lad, you can do this…"

He took the last clean folded towel, which he intended to put over the pillow to keep it safe from the oil in her hair –he'd have to make do with the bath robe until he'd laundered everything- and put in on top of the surrealistic cocoon that contained the battered little caterpillar he'd found in the garbage. He put the gloves back on and picked the whole living bundle in his arms, heading for his bedroom.

The hall seemed to be miles long and putting one foot in front of the other as quickly as possible was the best thing to do. V tried to remember if he had something she could wear –there was no way he'd let her sleep in wet towels- and decided that although his cotton yukata was fancier, he'd have to secure it around her waist with a sash, probably not a good idea with a cracked rib in the equation. No, not the yukata. Any of his old winter shirts would do, they were soft and big enough to cover her down to her knees. In the meantime, it was becoming a tradition to carry her everywhere.

---

"_I can walk but I want you to carry me anyway. I'm sleepy…"_

"_If you are sleepy perhaps I should escort you back to your bed and leave gruesome revelations for a better time." _

"_I'm not –that- sleepy!"_

_--- _

It was so strange that a terrified little beast like her would cling to him in such a way; regular folks would be afraid –he'd worked to perfect that effect- but her reaction was the opposite; she didn't even seem to find anything about him or his home any strange but she'd become quite frightened if he left her side, even for a moment.

On that first night she kept waking up despite the opiate in her system, fearing he'd be gone. Then he'd have to sit on the edge of the bed and hold her hand until exhaustion made her sleep again. He'd promised not to abandon her but letting go of her hand inevitably resulted on her waking up anyway, very scared and shivering. Then she'd ask and beg and practically demand he stayed with her

At the end he could no longer stand feeling a stabbing pain in his heart every time he heard her calling him in such a desolate way, with her big eyes brimming with tears. Such was the dilemma; she didn't want him to leave, he wanted to keep an eye on her, and they both needed to rest. The solution was unorthodox yet incredibly simple; he dimmed the lights inside the room and climbed on the bed next to her, over the covers. Before he could even suggest it, she had rolled on her good side and found a comfortable position against him. Only then she stopped fighting sleep and surrendered to the morphine. He had to admit it was strangely easy, as if they had done it for ages. He didn't even like to be touched by strangers but fell asleep with her head tucked under his chin.

V's sleep was unusually peaceful; the dream images were slightly different to what he was used to but he did not mind about the change, he was actually enjoying it. At first he could not tell what made those dreams different but his curiosity made him follow faint lines, looking for the source of those strange messages his mind was trying to deliver and the deeper he sought, the more he became aware of something not entirely his, filling blanks inside him.

---

"_Have I ever told you that you seem to have a somewhat morbid kind of curiosity in that little body of yours?"_

"_Yeah!"_

"_Just making sure. Off to the kitchen, then."_

_--- _

V felt watched; the distinctive imprint of curiosity crept inside his mind and his sharp instincts suggested it was time to wake up and find out what that curious feeling was all about. He was tempted to continue sleeping and it wasn't without some regret that he agreed to return to the world of the living. Still he did not feel like doing it abruptly and he let consciousness arrive little by little. He reminded himself not to move until he was sure it was safe and comforted by the privacy of the mask, looked around to find a bruised and swollen face displaying an expression of complete fascination.

Apparently the gloved hand resting on his chest was more than enough to attract the attention of his ragamuffin guest and keep her locked on the task of learning its secrets. She had to be still full of morphine but seemed sufficiently awake, sitting on the bed as comfortably as her wounds allowed, wearing a shirt with sleeves long enough to hang well beyond the tip of her fingers and with all that wavy brown hair reasonably clean except for traces of oil but in absolute disarray. On top of everything her swollen nose matched her eyes, quite puffy after crying for hours. The black lines under them had already settled and shone in their entire splendor. It would take weeks for them to fade. V regretted not keeping leeches as pets.

The girl was obviously trying to decide if touching him with the tip of her finger would be a good idea. He suspected half of the oil in her hair had made it to his clothing but it was by far the most endearing thing he'd seen in a very long time and he remained very still, not worrying about laundry, just watching as she made her choice. The little finger grew more confident and moved forward to feel the back of his gloved hand so delicately that it tickled him, making it impossible for him to keep pretending being asleep.

"Boo."

He startled her for about half a second and then her surprised look was replaced by a puzzled expression. She looked straight at the mask, leaning closer to examine him and the porcelain surface with shameless curiosity –he thought the broken nose was the only thing that kept her from sniffing him- and then it was his turn to stare, mesmerized by the shy smile that little by little lit up her bruised face.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle."

"Hi…"

"Slept well?"

"Uh huh…"

It was the same face he'd seen before but her expression was vastly different; she was still covered with bruises but the drugs and some rest had already managed to restore some of the energetic vivacity of children. In fact she seemed more interested on him and her new surroundings than on her own predicament.

"Mister, you look awful."

V didn't think he'd end up laughing after such a night but he did. The little beast grinned, growing more comfortable around him by the minute. In a way it was scary to think what she'd be up to by the end of the day.

"Yeah, rough date last night."

If her smile had been mesmerizing and her grin charming, her giggling had to be the best of all; he'd never heard such a clear sound before and something inside him knew he'd be very sorry if he didn't hear it ever again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Mademoiselle E**

**Chapter IV**

_"Now please be a good girl and give me my body back so we can do this."_

_"But I like it."_

_"I like it as well and I saw it first so it's more mine than yours."_

_"Ha. Ha. Ha."_

_-------------------_

Of course she wouldn't stay awake for long; the brief outburst of energy and curiosity ended as soon as the little thing was sure she was safe and watched over to her satisfaction. She submitted to a quick check-up and once pronounced stable and improving, declared she was more tired than hungry, hid under the covers with a sigh of relief and reassumed her drug-enhanced healing sleep, not before slipping her delicate hand inside V's vest pocket to make sure he would not get away. That was the first time V felt owned. It was a very curious feeling and he didn't know what to do with it. It wasn't hostile but it was definitely possessive and very jealous. He'd been picked before but it had been something completely different; back then he had been a thing, an object, just a toy to play with. No, the new feeling wasn't like that at all.

He pondered what to do next; he was hungry and less than decent, which had already been pointed out with great candor by his guest, who seemed to consider it pecata minuta. There was a lot of cleaning to do as well, not to mention the ever present planning for the fifth, the still long list of people he owed night visits to, and the design of the right menu for the girl's first meals at home. She'd need something light and full of nutrients to restore her strength after living in the streets and tempting enough to seduce her. He was also tired as hell after the adrenaline rush, and he was sore everywhere as if he had taken a beating as well, not the best time to think on complex feelings and all their possible ramifications. One more hour of sleep wouldn't hurt so he decided to get comfortable and follow his small patient's lead.

_----------------------------_

_"Thank you, my little monkey, you are light as a feather but your anarchy tree is a little tired tonight. Would you please put my things away? Careful with the knives, they are very sharp. Don't run down the hall with them."_

_"Can I get my stuff out of your bag already?"_

_"I don't know, can you?"_

_"Ugh, you know that I mean."_

_"And what do you mean?"_

_"-May- I take my things from your bag please?"_

_"Of course, my dear, I brought them but they are all yours to do as you see fit."_

_---------_

The dreams came back, still dark and still his own, showing the old places and images he'd reluctantly grown used to but there was something peculiar about the emotions they evoked, as if they were interacting in slightly different ways that altered meanings and already established symbols. He could guess the girl had something to do with it and it was also true that dreams were often a reflection of things happening in the waking world so it was only natural that his mind would include her influence as a new dream element to play with.

V didn't know how but it was as if two previously unrelated images met and produced a third one that started making sense. He'd pay attention to any future changes but his present kept him very focused on minute to minute events and nothing seemed more important than sleeping, there would be plenty time to worry about a thousand little things. All of a sudden new images demanded his attention and their normalcy puzzled him beyond words; a parade of vegetables jumping into a pot of boiling water occupied his dream world and he had to admit that even when very alien to his usual dreams, it was still a very good idea; he could perfectly cook for the little caterpillar light soups with things straight from his hydroponics garden. He could think on dozens of different recipes but later, later, they needed to sleep and let nerves settle a little more.

If he paid a little attention he could hear the distant murmur of voices from the abyss of his mind, calling one another in excited whispers but they didn't seem to need him in the least and if they eventually did, they would simply address him. He'd learned over the years that they didn't like to be disturbed and stopped trying to overhear their conversation as often as possible. His sleep was briefly disturbed by a small body stirring and shifting to ease the pressure over sore spots but the intermission was short-lived and she continued sleeping and perhaps dreaming as well.

One hour of extra sleep became two and then three but at the end even he had to wake up and adapt to the new day with all the changes it would bring. The little hand was still in his pocket and a thin wrist was practically the only visible part of the girl pressing against him and still buried under his comforter. He didn't want to wake her and tried to remove the possessive hand from his pocket by taking her wrist and pulling gently but she'd found a way to grasp the linen even in her sleep and his attempts only made her whimper and stir displeased. He tried reaching inside the pocket to rub the back of her fingers in the hope that she'd let go and after a few minutes the little fingers relaxed, setting him free. He waited to make sure she was still sleeping and very slowly replaced his body with a big pillow she could hug.

A sharp mind was focused on solving one little problem after the next so the first thing would be to make sure she didn't wake up alone in a strange place –he could still hear her shrieking from the previous night every time she thought he was gone- and the solution was simple enough; he ran to the workshop and on his way back tiptoed next to the bed to plant a live bug on the headboard to serve as a baby monitor. He put the matching earpiece on so he could hear everything that went on inside his room and slid out to complete the next part of his mission while she was still asleep; the bathroom.

Everything looked worse than he thought but it was just the effect of all those wet dirty towels lying around and discarded medical supplies wrappings of things he'd used the previous night. He replaced the leather gloves with common rubber ones and picked the towels up. A minute later they were in the washing machine, spinning merrily in waves of soapy water. Next he brought several garbage bags and picked up what would be discarded. The pile of ruined clothes she'd arrived in was still in the corner and although his most fervent wish was to soak them in gasoline and set them on fire, he put everything in a bag thinking that perhaps she'd want to keep something. Of course he'd make sure to boil it first. The bathtub was in worse condition than the floor but vigorous scrubbing with the help of industrial chemicals restored its previous neatness. The floor needed only basic mopping and soon everything looked as if nothing had happened. But the very air had a different smell, very faint and subtle, almost hidden beneath the pungent smells of cleaning products and soap.

Next the kitchen; he wanted to run a quick inventory on his supply of fruits and vegetables, either fresh or dry. He had decided that even before the soups, she'd need sweet fluids to help her stomach get used to food again. He knew from experience what could happen if they rushed things and he was sure he didn't want her to end up throwing up on his comforter. No, they would start with liquids, one sip at a time. The bug was working quite well and he could hear her steady breathing so the slightest change that announced she would wake up soon was enough to make him slam the pantry door shut and send him running back to his room.

She was barely emerging from under the covers when he arrived; blinking at her surroundings and slightly confused. He watched her pout when she realized he wasn't there and that she'd been holding a pillow. She was about to cry when she saw him standing on the threshold, ready for anything. She sighed relieved and smiled at him, making him feel something very strange; nobody was ever glad to see him, nobody except her.

"Good morning. Again."

"Hiiii"

She had the most peculiar way to pronounce that word, making the sounds resound longer than necessary but he found it charming, like a sweet note played in a flute. Then another thought crossed his mind; that sweet smell he'd sensed in the bathroom wasn't some sort of hallucination, it was more obvious and filled his room making it feel different and full of life; it was her smell.

"You always look like this?" She asked narrowing her puffy eyes and lifting an inquisitive eyebrow.

Typical, let the effects of morphine fade and people start making sense and asking uncomfortable questions. He should have known, it was going too well and in one instant the feeling of alienation he always carried with him, the knowledge of being irrevocably and eternally a foreigner to his own species came back with all its might, replacing that new feeling of acceptance he'd barely started to enjoy since the moment they'd met. He should have kept her drugged forever.

"Mostly."

"Ah."

He wanted to look away, to squirm, to turn and leave before she uttered the devastating "why" that would surely follow but she kept looking at him, thinking. He should have been more careful with that little demon but he had no idea she'd be able to find vulnerable spots so easily, one glance and she could see right through him. He blushed embarrassed, thinking she might even see everything he had done or would do. Oh well, at least he knew now what it was like to be accepted, even if it had lasted just a few hours. He could hear her already; why the mask, why the wig, why the clothing, why, why, why… Maybe if he answered correctly he'd get that new feeling back, it was sweet and soft and made him feel warm inside. He wished he knew how to answer properly to a girl's ruthless questioning.

"You don't like pretty colors on you, huh?"

"Eh… not too often."

"I like colors but black looks very nice on you. I'm hungry."

That was it; she'd dispatched the matter with a wave of her hand; black was his, colors were hers. Apparently she was sorting out roles and traits to find order around her. V still waited for the awkward "why" but she seemed satisfied for the moment and he considered it best not to stir the pot any further, besides a good number of voices inside him sounded awfully pleased with her candid praise and it was always a good idea not to disturb them when they were in a good mood.

"And what would you fancy?" He'd cook a twelve courses dinner if she felt like having one, he'd cook it even if she tried one bloody dish only and decorated the walls with the rest.

"Carrots! Do we have any?"

He had been so tense that he couldn't help laughing, which earned him a well deserved puzzled look he was starting to read correctly.

"Now –that- was weird…" She declared, rolling her eyes at his reaction, with an expression that only a young girl like her could accomplish when facing male silliness, which only made him laugh harder. The kid was obviously perfectly capable of telling one thing from the next and although peculiar, she had a sense of where things belonged.

"Oh… Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, we do have carrots although I'd suggest starting with diluted juice. Oh God, laughing is good…"

"Then you should do it more often." She finished with a wicked grin and pointed at the door, clearly sending him on an errand. "I like carrot juice, too." He could laugh his ass off but she was still hungry and she still liked carrots.


	5. Chapter 5

**Mademoiselle E**

Chapter V

"_I'm finished! That was easy; nothing was broken, soiled, damaged or lost this time. I guess nothing interesting happened tonight."_

"_I'm afraid your inventory isn't completely accurate, little E. Things do happen every time I'm out."_

--- & ---

"V.V.V.V.V..."

It had been cute the first hour but after that it was mostly white noise. In a way it was like having a little Sputnik right at home, orbiting around him whenever possible, repeating the same signal over and over. Perhaps it hadn't been a good idea to conduct introductions when the girl was –to say it delicately- very high on painkillers. She'd seemed puzzled when he told him what to call him but after thinking for a short while, the little forehead frowned and she asked if that was his first or last name. He stood there not knowing what to say but she found it all terribly funny, enough to trigger a high-pitched giggling attack that lasted two or three minutes. Then she collapsed dramatically on the pillows claiming that although she was no longer in pain, the ceiling was too close and he'd have to push it back up where it belonged before the spiders got confused and complained to the landlord of unnecessary cruelty. Trying to get her name was another little adventure as well; she didn't seem able to focus on much besides the ceiling and it took some effort to make her pay attention and remember it. He decided that finding out how she'd managed to end up in a pile of garbage could wait and all he could do was postpone all additional intellectual activities until after she had already landed.

Soon she fell asleep and he calculated it would give him between one and two hours to go out and get some antibiotics just in case the mild fever she'd finally developed became a matter of concern. It could be caused by the shock, in which case it would remain within reasonable limits to fade by itself without the need of strong medication but it could also mean an infection was attacking her battered system and he wanted to be prepared before the fever got out of control and damaged her brain. She seemed to feel safe under his care so there was also the possibility of her dropping her defenses to become thoroughly ill once she could finally afford it after what he suspected had been a long period of stress in which she couldn't show any weakness. If her unconscious and her body were planning to go for that third option, he could anticipate she'd get anything –and everything- from stomach flu to hives and she could easily spend weeks in bed. She was also underweight and he didn't know how much genetics had to do with her small size that made her look younger. It was only the expression in her eyes that betrayed her thirteen years of age and told her history hadn't been a happy one in a long time. He made sure she was comfortable and just as an additional precaution moved her slightly to the exact centre of the bed and stuffed pillows on either side so she wouldn't roll and end up on the floor.

Going out felt very different, he'd never been in that kind of a hurry. He wasn't in the mood for theatrics and decided to change into something more practical than the fancy Fawkes attire. He selected a full set of black tight-fitting clothes that covered him completely and picked the minimum array of electronics and weaponry he'd need for a quick "shopping trip" above. It bothered him not to be home and he kept wondering if she was still asleep. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to wait until she was awake and simply tell her he'd go out briefly to get supplies. Too late for that, his sense of time kept track of how long he'd been out and all he wanted was to get the drugs and antiseptics he was looking for as quickly as possible. He picked the closest supplier he could think of and filled his bag with everything he thought he'd need. He felt terribly alert, jumping at every little sound coming from the street and far more worried than usual because things had changed and he had to take care of himself twice as much. If something happened to him she'd be on her own, ill and trapped in a fancy bunker wrapped in sophisticated booby traps and security devices nobody could disable without the right codes stored in his mind.

At the end he was running back home with his life-saving bag, paying attention to his surroundings only because his instincts were used to doing so. He was taking too long, or at least he thought he was, even when he'd found no one in his path that would delay him and getting the drugs had been just as easy. He forced himself to follow his own security protocols, punching valid codes into hidden panels carefully placed in the corridors leading to his main door, which was slammed behind him as soon as he crossed the threshold. He kept running, still clutching the canvas bag and did not stop until he was back in his room, startling for the second time in less than one minute the petite girl who stared at him for a second with eyes as big as she could open them considering the bruising. She looked around and opened her mouth to shriek in such a high pitch that he feared she'd shatter all fine crystal in the house. She paused only to refill her lungs and continued screaming with such intent that she even forgot about her cracked ribs. She had a strange expression in her face that combined fear and ferocity and reached out to grab a heavy glass from the nightstand to throw it at him if he got any closer.

"Shhhh! Would you please stop doing that? My ears are very sensitive!"

"V?"

Of course, that explained it all; he wasn't wearing what she'd already seen him in and he was holding a suspicious black canvas bag that looked very much like those used to cover people's heads. In her drugged condition she failed to recognize him and thought a dangerous stranger had sneaked in while the individual she was familiar with was out of sight. It was flattering in a strange way; she relied on him and was trying to alert him so he'd come and protect her. In the meantime she was armed and determined to fight if she had to.

"Yes. I'm very sorry; I did not mean to startle you."

"Why are you dressed like a bloody ninja?"

"I had to go out to get a few things for you and this seemed comfortable enough for a quick escapade."

"Oh. You look…different."

"Is that good or bad?"

"I dunno…"

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Huh? Yeah, I guess."

"Is there any pain?"

"Uh… I don't think so."

She still seemed unconvinced and kept looking at him with suspicion, sitting up with her back very straight and hiding the glass behind her back as she slid a few inches away when he sat on the edge of the bed to feel her forehead with the back of his fingers. He could almost swear the broken little nose was trying to catch his scent as well. It wasn't until he removed his glove that she knew for certain he wasn't an impostor and finally allowed him to touch her, all of her previous bravado turned into relief and docile obedience in a matter of seconds.

"Hmmm warm. Let me see your eyes… Yes, I don't need a thermometer to tell the fever has gone up one or two degrees. I'm afraid you'll have to take these antibiotics I brought for you."

"I don't feel too sick."

"Then the infection will be far easier to handle, don't you think?"

"I suppose…"

"But it could also be the adrenaline rush. You may give me that glass now."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Are you dizzy? Confused?"

"Just a little…"

"Hmmm. We'll try something less aggressive for the pain soon."

"No shots!"

"Not a fan of needles, I see. Are you hungry? You must eat if you are to take these pills."

"You are not going out again?"

"Not in the next few days."

"Ah. How many days?"

"Five or six."

"Okay. Then I think I'm hungry."

"I had no idea your stomach was interested in my comings and goings but I'm still glad you are hungry. I also believe you've spent enough time in this bed and it's not good for you. Would you like to come out and have breakfast at the kitchen? It's not too early in the morning for breakfast. But nothing heavy for now, I should remind you."

"We have a kitchen! I haven't seen it yet!"

"You've been in bed most of the time and you probably don't even remember the bathroom with clarity. So would you like to visit the kitchen?"

"Yeah!"

"Very well, but first I want to take a look at your cuts and bruises and after breakfast you should take a quick shower; that will help with the fever and the cuts."

"I think I'll want to go to the loo before all that..."

"Do you mean right now?"

"Uh-huh…"

"I will carry you most of the way; I don't want you to walk on that leg before I make sure it's safe to. Something should be done about that hair as well."

"Does it look that bad?"

"I'm afraid it does."

"It used to be so pretty…"

"I'm sure it still is; we just need to spend some time with it."

"Do you think we'll have to cut it?"

"We just might have to."

"All of it, you think?"

"Hmmmm. I hope not."

"Okay…"

"Well, well. It seems it is written that I should carry you everywhere, don't you think?"

"But I'm little, see? I don't think I'm too heavy for you."

"I believe you are just the way you are supposed to be."


	6. Chapter 6

"_Hmmm? What do you mean? Something bad happened? You are scaring me."_

"_Don't be scared, little one. I believe we can handle it."_

- & -

He'd ended up watching over not a little girl but almost an infant instead. The biggest difference was that he didn't have to change diapers, for which he was immensely glad. The little caterpillar still couldn't eat much and her strict diet required that he fed her practically every three hours, day or night. The antibiotics were aggressive and the painkillers were not candy either so taking the pills with an empty stomach wasn't a good idea. Every three hours she'd get a bit of diluted juice or water, a cup of jelly, a few cubes of fresh fruit and something he thoroughly hated but she seemed to love; plain yogurt.

After two days and their nights he was completely drained and ended up bringing into his bedroom small plastic containers full with everything she'd eat through the night and he'd line them up over the nightstand in orderly groups so he wouldn't even have to turn the lamp on, get up, go to the kitchen, have everything ready and be back before she knew he was gone and started shrieking calling him. After a couple tries he even managed to feel her forehead for fever, feed her, and give her the pills while both stayed half-asleep and he'd be only concerned with not spilling anything and with keeping his fingers away from her sharp teeth, which had proven immune to post-biting remorse. That schedule was much better, as he discovered, finally seeing the wisdom behind the motherly advice that suggested sleeping when the babe slept.

It was strangely relaxing to have his mind focused on an entirely different set of things but after a few days he feared growing too complacent and had to force himself to get up and do some work during the day when she tended to be a little more reasonable and actually accepted leaving the room to visit the kitchen or the television room where she was allowed to watch any of a large selection of movies appropriate for her age.

As soon as she started feeling better, the brat didn't seem able to stay still during her more and more frequent explosions of energy. She'd wake up very early in the morning wearing a gentleman's shirt, boxers and socks folded from toes to heels several times to create some sort of temporary slippers and after a quick check-up she'd be escorted to the bathroom to perform her morning rituals. She could manage quite well in the shower by herself and with the help of a rubber mat under her feet so she wouldn't slip and a plastic stool she could sit on so she wouldn't have to worry for keeping her balance when she should be focused on scrubbing instead.

Her leg wasn't ready for normal activity yet and she still needed a little help but V had easily included in his daily routine the task of lifting a short girl to help her in and out of the shower, all to make sure she wouldn't fall and hurt herself in any way. He was quite amused by the morning transformation which in a way was very much like cooking; first he'd put an untidy little thing hiding inside his clothes in the shower and he'd walk out of the bathroom to start making her breakfast, all the time listening to what was going on through the bathroom door he'd left open for safety. Then it happened; with the help of soap, shampoo and hot water some sort of magic occurred and after a mere handful of minutes he'd be called into the bathroom to be given back a pink giggling girl, wrapped from head to ankles in thick bath towels and demanding to be fed yet again.

After two or three times it had become a complete ceremony by own right and each said their lines and moved in the right way when they were supposed to, even to the part of picking up the discarded clothes she'd worn the previous day and night. Then she'd be taken back to the bedroom to be toweled and dressed with something close to a lady-in-waiting's devotion. She would then engage in a second giggling round of demands to have her breakfast just to make him repeat his "We are almost done" line over and over while her hair was combed and weaved in a loose braid to allow it to dry completely and at the same time keep it under control. Next her cuts and bruises were looked at and only after V considered all appropriate antiseptics, ointments and clean bandages had been applied she would be allowed to walk slow and carefully to the kitchen to have her small portions of food plus one egg.

Every sound spoke of a household up and about, buzzing with activity in the kitchen where breakfast was on the stove, the morning news in the television room and two peculiarly bonded strangers were busy with their personal and shared chores after a peaceful night. The little beast had spent the last half hour singing –shouting actually- bits of every single song she'd learned in the last days and despite the background noise, V's mind was remarkably quiet. He wondered where everyone was and for a moment feared something was wrong but before he could panic one of them hushed him in the same annoyed tone adults used with fidgety children because he was disturbing The Performance. What performance? He was about to ask for clarification but then noticed they were still there, all very quiet, completely besotted with a girl's singing that in all honesty could be much improved. They didn't seem to care, they loved it and it was enough to have them floating belly up, swimming lazily in their deep ocean. But of course, only a maiden could attract and pet the wild unicorns.

They seemed so pleased that V refrained from loading her plate just yet because that would distract her and her version of "Anarchy in the UK" would be cut short to everyone's displeasure. Oh well, it was fun enough to have two different shows playing in the kitchen; hers and the one inside his head. He leaned back on the sink to listen to her singing, hoping she wouldn't mind to have him watching and indeed she didn't, she loved the attention and her interpretation only became louder and more theatrical. She finished slaughtering her song and bowed deeply; blowing kisses and waving at an imaginary audience she actually had, practically drooling at anything she did. He couldn't help clapping -they insisted he did- and she grinned broadly at her mischief as she squirmed between the back of the chair and the table to sit and wait for her light breakfast to appear before her.

She was naturally curious and limping and all she managed to explore every unlocked room looking in drawers and cabinets, wanting to know everything about every object that caught her eye. Her education had been obviously neglected and he'd be damned if he let her stay on the couch watching television shows all day long so it was only logical that he should do his best to correct such poor instruction with brief but intense sessions of study that kept her busy and out of trouble for a few hours every day.

She'd also taken to falling asleep practically everywhere when her stamina failed her, even at her favorite reading place, namely the small Persian rug she'd dragged under the piano. She tended to be a noisy little creature and if 30 minutes passed without her limping up and down the hall with her bandaged leg, or singing or calling him with any excuse, V could guess with an accuracy of 90 that she was asleep. Her naps were usually brief but if it was getting late and she didn't seem willing to wake up, all he could do was pick her up and carry her to bed.

At first he thought of scolding her for sleeping so much but he remembered little humans of her age tended to do that. Growing up could be rather exhausting apparently. It was also true that she seemed to feel free to finally sleep whenever she'd like, knowing she would be perfectly safe, which he decided to take as a compliment.

Only one thing seemed out of place; now they were buzzing inside him and talking behind his back. They'd spent the last few days whispering furiously after listening to her singing and although he could not tell what they were discussing, it made him very uncomfortable. On the first day all was chaos and they'd spent it laying out things. On the second day they began exchanging views. He'd ventured asking once what the fuss was all about and they told him to shut up and leave them alone, they'd let him know when they were ready for him. On the third day all opinions present at first had been synthesized and adopted by two opposing sides, each with passionate supporters. He felt them pause at the end of that day to stare at him before going back to discussing, still not saying anything. He hated it when they did that, as if he weren't in the same body with them.

Oh well, they could gossip and talk all they wanted, he had work to do and he'd become recently obsessed with that mane of hair that no amount of hair cream seemed to soften after so much abuse so he decided to deliver the sad news that she would need a haircut after all, news that she took with a resigned little sigh as he guided her to the makeup room to have it done as quickly as possible.

The girl loved the makeup room and any excuse to being there was welcome at any time. She'd even taken to sitting in his chair to play with his brushes and combs, trying on his clothes and wigs if she managed to talk him into letting her.

"Sing to me?" She said as she looked up and behind, sitting on top of a small mountain of cushions and rattling in his chair, ready to have her hair properly cut at last, which would involve getting rid of a good deal of it, all split ends and dryness.

"And what would you like to hear?" V asked as he combed the wild mane to work out knots and figure out what shape it had, if any.

"The last unicorn!" She'd watched the movie already and loved the melancholic song that made her happy and sad at the same time.

"It's not quite my key but I'll do my best…"

V thought she'd picked something a little too emotional, especially considering she was irrevocably on her way to puberty and probably drowning in new hormones already and as he feared, she was already sobbing not eight lines into the song. He felt guilty for making her cry like that when he could have perfectly offered something more cheerful since the beginning but as soon as he hesitated she looked up at his reflection in the mirror, slightly annoyed and clearly wondering why in hell he'd stopped singing and cutting her hair. He considered singing some other song but she pouted dramatically until he picked up where he'd left off both cutting and singing, and she smiled broadly while reaching out to take a box of tissues to go back to sniffling armed with proper tools. In a way and under certain conditions she seemed to enjoy crying, which for him was only a relief, not an aesthetic experience per se. He wondered if all females worked that way.

He finished his song and she seemed very pleased with it, clapping and grinning at him, with her box of tissues on her lap, safe under the big towel wrapped about her shoulders while she had her hair cut. She thought she should reciprocate and shocked him at first but then made him laugh with her own interpretation of "I want a monster to be my friend" which he suspected carried a deeper message than that of being cute. Perhaps she had a way for letting him know in simple ways that although she knew everything there including them was far from the norm she was comfortable and happy.

"So, what do you think?" He asked, as he made the chair turn to left and right so she could see her new hairstyle. He'd cut a good length of hair, probably five or six inches and not really knowing how to come up with anything fancy he'd settled for a straight line at shoulder length and bangs at the front. The girl looked at her image in the mirror and covered her mouth with one hand, giggling insanely.

"Is there something wrong?"

"V, I look just like you!"

"What do you mean you look just like… oh dear, poor child of mine; you certainly do. A little shorter perhaps?"

"Okay but sing Jessica Rabbit's song!"

"Very well but I can't cut your hair and do the walk at the same time…"

& -

On the fourth morning of their strange behavior he was at the kitchen, cooking the little beast's breakfast She was allowed to have her fruit juice undiluted for the first time and she was very pleased with it, sipping it slowly because he'd given her one small glass only just to be sure her stomach wouldn't object. She was still on a light diet and from the relatively short list of things she could have she'd added to her menu toast and a bit of tea which was no trouble at all. He had been too busy grinning, just thinking on how pleased she was because the bruises on her face were just starting to fade and it wasn't until the second time they called him that he actually heard. They had discussed for days and now they were ready for him but first they wanted him to put down the knife he was slicing his fruit with, they wanted him to sit down and take a deep breath. They sounded so serious, always a bad sign.

"We have decided that as soon as possible you will give her back."


	7. Chapter 7

**Mademoiselle E**

**Chapter VII**

"_You really think we can handle anything, don't you?"_

"_We have so far, whatever it takes."_

**- & -**

"We have decided that as soon as possible you will give her back."

"No."

"She must have a family somewhere, looking for her."

"Nobody wants her, I found her in the garbage. Discarded, thrown away, dying."

"That's the most childish excuse you could ever come up with."

"It's good enough for me and she likes it here as well so this is where she belongs."

"She is not ours to keep."

"I don't care."

"You know it's true."

"Shut up!"

A collective sigh of frustration resounded in his head; they were obviously concerned and they were just trying to make things easier for him. The longer everyone waited, the harder it would be to let her go and they had already seen what she could do to charm them. He sat there in silence staring at nothing, feeling cold and stripped of his recently found domestic harmony. It didn't seem fair that he couldn't have what he wanted for everyone –not- on his list.

Think. He needed to think but not too much because they'd hear him and then they'd try to stop him. Perhaps they were right but he didn't want them to, he just didn't want to hear them. He could try to ignore them or sedate them. Maybe with enough alcohol and drugs… No, not alcohol, the drugs would make him sick enough already. He decided to ignore them somehow until he knew what to do, even though they had a tendency to grow louder until they had his attention. He'd have to try something new when they were asleep. They had to sleep eventually.

His body refused to move until the kettle whistled and brought him out of his stupor, making him remember her breakfast was ready and if he was to come up with a plan to keep her, it would be best to act as if nothing overly upsetting had happened, especially when she was around. If he acted differently she might sense it and if she was disturbed they would know he was doing something more than pouting. He hated shouting to call her for breakfast –it seemed so terribly inelegant- and after removing the kettle from the fire stood up to walk back to his room where she was already dressed and supposed to be finished combing her now manageable by just one person short hair that framed the little face so well that the fading bruises were less obvious.

V wasn't prepared for the scene playing in his room although it was something he should have expected; his armoire seemed to have exploded while he was at the kitchen arguing inside his head and the bed was covered in his clothes. As part of her ongoing expedition to uncover the domestic secrets of his home, the caterpillar had been digging in his drawers and had found his delicate vintage five-crested red kimono in its paper case. It was an extravagant piece indeed, combining the extreme reverence of the five traditional family crests of gold and silver embroidery in the back, sleeves, and front, supposed to be displayed only at the most serious occasions and the scandalous crimson the spun silk had been dyed with. He had always wondered who in the late 19th century could have ordered and worn such garment; probably a bored courtesan or a rich foreigner in search for the exotic but in the England of the 21st century a skinny brat had wrapped herself with it and posed in front of the mirror like a miniature maiko waiting for her dresser to arrive and have her ready for a night out entertaining clients with spicy stories, silly games and songs.

In a way he knew what it must have been like; right at his home he played the part of the client and she played the role of the red-collared geisha apprentice, just recently allowed to serve but already wise in treating him as if he were simply incapable of committing a bad deed, even if she knew better and that was a drug very few could resist. He could imagine her going back home at four or five in the morning in company of her "older sister" appointed to take her everywhere and to introduce her to all the right people in the business. He could clearly see her little feet covered with white cotton tabi, and her high okobo clogs going kobo-kobo-kobo on the cobbled streets after touring the tea houses circuit she'd had appointments at, with a tired expression in her face she'd hide scrupulously from anyone that crossed her path because her white, red and pink makeup was about to collapse after hours of hard work but she'd still have to protect the good name of her older sisters by making others believe that even at that late hour perfection never abandoned her. As compensation she'd be carrying a small silk purse full of little envelopes containing tips that unlike her official salary, she wouldn't have to split with the house that sponsored her.

Seeing her in front of the mirror made him feel something very unpleasant in his stomach because it was just the sort of moment they wanted to deprive him of. For a moment he had to look away and was about to leave before she saw him but something in the way she was playing made him think she deserved daydreaming like that and feeling safe for as long as possible after all she had gone through. He leaned on the threshold crossing his arms across his chest and settled for watching her, at complete ease probably for the first time in years and turning to left and right unaware of having a devoted audience watching her every move. She was clearly enjoying herself, trying different postures and gestures that seemed to make her travel back and forth between childhood and adolescence in a bittersweet moment of hesitant transition.

She wasn't aware of it but soon a battle over her would be raging inside her lithe body for the next several years and he was the only mortal around to see its very beginning. It wasn't realistic to expect someone other than him would notice and much less care about such things and if he sent her away they would be lost forever, a thought that upset him. No, no detail should be missed and his mind was focused on recording every single gesture. Eventually she noticed she wasn't alone and very slowly looked over her shoulder, blushing so deeply that she seemed to melt into the crimson silk around her.

"It looks very nice on you but it's not entirely of the right size. And gender."

"It's very pretty."

"I like pretty things."

"Everything's pretty down here."

"Everything?"

"Yeah, everything."

"I'm very glad you approve."

"Can I wear this some more?"

"I'm afraid it's not for ladies, as I believe I have already mentioned."

"You sure?"

"Very. The cut is the traditional for men but if you insist on wearing it we can fold it at the waist the way ladies do. I'm afraid I don't have the right accessories but we can improvise."

"So I can wear it for a while?"

"As long as you don't destroy it."

"I'll be careful!"

"And you'll have to learn how to walk, sit and move in it."

"Okay!"

"Good. I'll get some of the small towels."

"Towels? But I showered already."

"We'll use them as padding. Ladies use padding under the kimono to keep a perfect shape."

"Padding!"

"Yes, padding for shoulders, waist and lower back at least."

"That's so complicated…"

"You have no idea."

The task of turning a girl into a Japanese doll proved to be quite effective to keep his mind focused and from the minute they started working on it after breakfast an uncertain calmness filled every room in the house, as if nobody wanted to say or do the wrong thing so hell wouldn't break loose. She loved playing that dressing up game and insisted on doing it as close to the real thing as they could manage. V had to dig in a pile of books to find the right text detailing the whole process and with the help of a few soft towels, wide bandages to secure everything around her with just enough pressure to keep things in place and still not hurt her cracked ribs plus quite a bit of experimenting with folding and wrapping, they succeeding in making her look presentable.

Several hours were spent that morning discussing Japanese clothing and practicing on walking slowly up and down the hall to become familiar with the way she was supposed to move in a kimono and although they couldn't cover more complex motions such as kneeling or sitting down because of her injuries, all about her behavior said she'd found her place in the world and wasn't about to give it up. In the meantime he was determined to encourage her to shine so much that even they could not stand the thought of losing her.

Instead of fighting openly he let their easy routine unfold just the way it had in the last couple weeks since he'd found her because that helped him think during the brief moments when he knew for certain they were asleep and because he did enjoy taking care of the girl. It was amazing how agile and slippery she was; especially considering one of her legs was still healing. Eventually her stomach couldn't stand more pills and V didn't want her to stop taking her medication, which meant that after the early tetanus and hepatitis immunization shots he'd given her as soon as he'd managed after her arrival, he had to make sure her treatment continued with the help of the syringe; something she abhorred and had agreed to submit to only because she'd needed strong painkillers and vaccines early on.

Giving her every eight hours the antibiotic shots she needed had become a large scale covert operation which had included diversions, mild sedatives or resetting all the clocks in the Shadow Gallery so she wouldn't know when the next shot was due. She still managed to guess correctly from time to time based on his behavior and fled as soon as he turned his back to have the antibiotics ready. Then the chase would begin and even if he succeeded in trapping her or in dragging her out of the strangest hiding places her tiny frame allowed her to squirm into, she'd kick and hiss and spit because she hated needles, twice as much since he was so determined to keep on using them on her. Only a reminder of what could happen if she ended up with a broken needle in her already sore bum made her stay still and get her shots –bawling and all- wherever he managed to deliver them, like over his knees on the leather couch at the television room, under the piano and even once across the kitchen table.

It wasn't until the cycle of medication was near completion that V realized that yes, she hated needles sincerely but putting up a show of that sort had also been a very profitable thing for her because afterwards she'd invariably get an extra amount of pampering meant to console her, and she'd get to cling to him for at least ten or fifteen minutes, crying until she released a good deal of stress, not to mention all the attention she got just with her hiding and wrestling routine, which he believed was of vast help on his campaign to make her irreplaceable.

She was an odd little beast indeed; obviously strong but at the same time very fond of crying. It was also curious that although he was quite convinced he was doing the right thing for her and that his feelings of guilt centered on the whole syringe matter were barely existent, his own behavior contradicted that fact and his unconscious reaction seemed out of proportion. It was a little shocking to conclude after some thinking that he was putting up a show of his own to match hers and that both had found a way to get form the other what they needed; something they clearly enjoyed in a slightly perverse way. Then all the chasing and crying and hugging made sense; they were filling some of their respective emotional blanks even if that meant she'd have to bear the needles she hated so and that he'd display a whole collection of apparently guilty overprotective gestures more appropriate if she were five, not thirteen.

Oh, and they were quiet, so very discreet after dropping such a bomb but in due time he'd teach them a lesson. He was somewhat lightheaded most of the time but it wouldn't hurt to pay yet another visit to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and take a pill, or two, perhaps three just to be sure. Vitamins, yes, he could use some more… vitamins.


	8. Chapter 8

**Mademoiselle E**

**Chapter VIII**

"_Sometimes it takes too much, V. Weapons, gadgets, drugs…"_

"_Is that a complaint I hear?"_

"_Hrmf… no. Never."_

- & -

He had been careful and discreet; stealing a few hours here and there to focus on his plans for the still distant Fifth since he didn't feel comfortable with the idea of going out before the caterpillar could either wait for him without feeling abandoned or tag along for fun and instruction with no risk of a relapse. He'd grown used to thinking only when he felt it was safe to and conducted himself in what he believed was the right way but it just had to happen sooner or later; accidentally he'd taken one pill too many meant to sedate them and although he knew it wasn't enough to kill him, cause organ failure or even make him vomit he still had to find the nearest soft surface to lie down for a minute before he fell on his face in the middle of the hall.

Yes, the television room; that would do. Five minutes, that's all he wanted to get off his feet and take a very short nap on his black leather couch if that's what it took to clear his head enough to continue with his chores without making them suspect something was wrong. He found a comfortable position on the cushions but jumped startled after a handful of seconds, alarmed at not remembering exactly where the brat was and what she was probably up to. With a supreme effort he sat up and turned his head to look back into the hall. He waited for what felt like a lifetime, not very capable of standing up or yelling, just trying to stay awake for long enough to see her walking by so he could call her and make sure she was fine and not in possession of sharp objects.

The death screams of a tender carrot being massacred by sharp little teeth coming from the kitchen reassured him and to his luck they grew louder and louder as one innocent-looking serial killer of vegetables approached the television room, just the place he wanted her at. The little mouth was full with chewed carrots and V managed to see she was holding a small bowl that contained even more victims. He beckoned her to get closer with two gloved fingers and the girl tried to smile and yet keep her full cheeks from exploding, like a squirrel from hell.

"Hiiiii."

He loved that greeting; he didn't know if she used it with everyone but he could swear that even if she did, it would be pronounced in a special way just for him.

"Hi."

"Watcha doin'?

He felt like scolding her for speaking like that; usually she made a great effort to use grammar and vocabulary correctly despite her substandard education and if she slipped like that he could guess it was because at the moment he looked so terribly incapable of correcting her speech that she was in fact toying with him.

"I'm napping. Sit right there. Watch a movie." He said as he pointed at a spot on the rug under the couch. If he was going to be unconscious for a few minutes he'd want to keep her near and out of trouble.

"V, are you okay? You sound so sleepy."

"I had something…"

"You've been playing with your drugs again?"

"Something like that…"

"Is it serious?"

It was endearing to see she was concerned, the frowning brow, and the determined look in her eyes, all spoke of how worried she was. He could guess she was already thinking on what to do, like giving him an antidote or perhaps even try to drag him somehow into the bathroom for a cold shower. Even then she refused to give up and her instincts pushed her into solving whatever problem was at hand. She sat on the edge of the couch and without even thinking on asking before invading his personal space, pressed a little ear to his chest to make sure his heartbeat wasn't slower or faster than usual. She was used to hearing it; since the night they met she'd fallen asleep to the comforting sound and although it was well-paced and strong, she still looked unsure.

"No, no. I had a little too much of something harmless. I'm just very… sleepy."

"So what should I do?"

"The perimeter is safe and… and there's nothing on the stove or the lab to worry about so please just sit here on the rug to keep me company and watch the telly while I sleep for a few minutes…"

"That's it?"

"Yes. And stay right here."

"And then you'll be fine?"

"I intend to."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Okay, chief." She replied resigned and shrugged her slim shoulders once out of arguments and reached for the remote to turn the television and the DVD player on. She pressed play on whatever movie was in the player and sat down on the carpet with her bowl of carrots, stretching her leg out in front of her and leaning back on the edge of the couch to be comfortable or maybe keep him from rolling and ending up on the floor. He wanted to let go, just let go once everything was safely accounted for. Just a few minutes out to let his body process what he'd taken…

He switched back to the world of the living to the delighted giggling of a skinny girl. The little devil was still sitting on the rug, right next to him as instructed and trying to muffle her laughter with both hands covering her mouth. She should have been watching a movie but she had her back turned to the television set, obviously watching something else of far greater interest happening on the opposite direction. She kept giggling and looked up at him, obviously expecting something. She seemed more than a little surprised to find after a few seconds that he was actually awake and looking back at her, a little confused but still alert. Her brown eyes grew wider and the giggling stropped altogether, as if someone had pressed a button inside her. Only a mischievous smile remained.

"What?" He knew it was a rude way to phrase a question but it was all he managed on such short notice so she'd have to forgive him.

"Nothing!"

She tended to be shameless and even a bit cynical when having to admit something and it struck him as unusual that she would lie to him like that. Obviously something had happened while he slept and he could think on at least half a dozen improper things a sleeping adult could do that a child would find so definitely hilarious. He ran a quick inventory and the whole attire was in perfect order, which made him feel slightly better.

"How long…?"

"How long did you sleep? Almost two hours."

"Two hours!"

"Yeah, and you snore like a baby."

Nothing like snoring to inspire respect on children, he thought. Now she'd tease him with that for weeks if not months. It must have been very funny to make her laugh like that; her cheeks were flustered and the brown eyes shone with tears of laughter, all framed by her slightly messed up short bob hairstyle. He had to push away the thought of never seeing her like that again before he could even feel it.

"Feeling better?"

"Much better, thank you. I'm glad to see you didn't burn down the house, even if I don't know why you are so jolly."

She went back to giggling; letting out one last wave of laughter he seemed to have interrupted when he awoke. He was feeling still drugged but not as much as before and sat up for a few minutes to evaluate his condition before getting up. She looked vastly amused; staring at him shamelessly from the floor, perhaps expecting him to do something silly, again. He thought he'd only encourage her to misbehave if he insisted she told him what had happened and chose to ignore her instead, shaking his head and finding the behavior of children too strange to decipher, especially at that moment.

He opened up as quietly as possible to try to find out what they were up to but nobody acknowledged him and everything was quiet inside his head. They seemed still asleep and V hoped the drugs he'd been taking constantly in the last days affected them more than they affected him. Still it wouldn't hurt to let her advertise herself a little more, just in case any of them happened to be around and alert enough to be interested. He patted the spot next to him on the couch and she climbed on it, leaning against him and smelling like fresh carrots.

"You look better already."

"Do I? My head stopped spinning."

"You scared me a little."

"I'm sorry, I was careless."

"Are you going to do that again?"

"Take one pill too many?"

"No, scare me."

Oh, poor thing had no idea of how scary he could be. The fact that she hadn't shown the slightest discomfort when he was around could have a lot to do with his non-hostile disposition towards her, which he was sure was broadcasted in generous waves of warmth she could pick up despite his reserve, and in return she seemed to effectively defuse the lesser impulses he was capable of feeling. But it was just a matter of time; the process could have been slowed since her arrival but at the end he'd still build up enough hostility to feel the need to go out, tear an enemy to shreds –and- enjoy it. He hadn't thought of that before and all of a sudden he discovered he had one more trouble to take care of; how in hells was he going to do what he had to do and yet not earn her disapproval. A little sigh was all he dared let out his mouth and collected his thoughts as smoothly as he could.

"I assure you that scaring you isn't one of my goals but I'm afraid I can't promise it will not happen again."

"Then I'll just have to scare you back."

"I believe that at thirteen you are still a little young to do that. And when were you born anyway?"

"Exactly, exactly?"

"Yes."

"December 23rd at about half past ten, thirteen years ago."

"Impossible…"

"I hope my next birthday this year is better than the last one, I was under a bridge, cold, hungry and scared. It's so much nicer in here with you…"

It seemed impossible indeed but he had the feeling she was telling the truth. He had to replay her dialogue several times in his head to make sure he'd heard correctly and for the first time in days he didn't give a damn if they heard, too. He couldn't repress a shiver that crawled up his spine and took his breath away. If up to that point he'd found it undesirable to give her up now the mere possibility of it was unbearable. He didn't know why things had happened in such a strange way but he didn't care, all that mattered was that she had been thrown into the world kicking and screaming on the very same night of his escape from Larkhill.


	9. Chapter 9

**Mademoiselle E **

**  
Chapter IX**

"_I mean it, little E; if I'm going too far and too fast I'd like to know. It's important, especially now."_

"_Oh. Well, sometimes you are very stubborn and don't listen to anyone, not even yourself." _

- & -

One more day, one more covert operation to continue in possession of stolen goods, namely a skinny girl with one big freckle on each cheek and hair cut at jaw length. V decided that since his personality and physical nature made him especially vulnerable to all sorts of obsessions and addictions, he should better switch again to another set of chemicals before he got to like too much the ones he was currently taking, all to keep the noise inside his head to a minimum, as he'd managed to lately. In a way he missed them –after all they had been his only companions for more than a decade- but he wasn't ready for them yet; he still needed time to think and if things went well he'd find a solution to keep her before they made him stop or the drugs affected him negatively.

Switching drugs was always an exciting adventure; it could go well or not and by saying it could go well meant he would feel lighter and slightly slower than usual but still capable of performing most of his tasks without falling asleep everywhere or throwing up. To say things could go on the opposite direction meant that not only he could become physically ill, he could also start hallucinating with just the sort of things he was trying to avoid and then he'd have to lock himself up and ride wave after wave of panic until his system broke down the drug molecules with the help of large amounts of water he'd have to drink. The current experiment was going well so far; besides a very mild buzzing in his ears the side effects he could evaluate without the help of lab tests were quite tolerable and even his blood pressure and temperature seemed stable and within reasonable limits.

Just in case V did as usual and took a few hours to simply sit down and watch a light film that didn't need all of his attention, listening to his body as it processed whatever chemical he had taken, keeping an eye on the clock to know when it would start working, when it would reach its peak and when it would start fading. His small guest noticed he'd kept taking pills and drops from this or that bottle and granted him a quizzical look that put together with her shaking of the head said it all; she didn't approve but he was old enough to know what he was doing. Sometimes she did things just to find out what would happen and she'd probably assumed his experimentation with chemicals was based on the same principle so he was spared of a questioning someone else might feel forced to conduct in order to understand his reasons for acting in such a way. Still she kept following him from room to room, and he had the distinctive feeling she was at the same time keeping an eye on him and expecting something from him, even if she didn't say anything. Their strange dance ended when he settled on the leather couch at the television room, not especially interested on choosing anything to watch but not very willing to take a nap either.

The girl stared at him for a minute, just making sure he was reasonably well and planning to stay right there, and vanished to follow her own agenda and complete yet another raid of the pantry, making all the noise in the world opening and closing drawers and cabinets in her search for just the perfect snack her stomach would fancy at that particular hour. He would have to instruct her on being quiet but for the moment it was useful that she was so loud, at least he knew where she was and what she was doing, which was always a relief. He'd also pondered restricting her eating before it got out of control but so far not one pound of flesh seemed gained to help cover the thin bones and very few items in the kitchen could be labeled as junk so letting her own body figure out details seemed reasonable for the moment.

It had also taken V some time to realize growing humans needed a higher intake of nutrients than fully grown adults and the girl definitely had a voracious appetite that once freed from her restrictive early diet had forced him to expand the hydroponics garden and more than double his production of vegetables. At least she wasn't a fastidious eater; she'd sink her little teeth into everything and anything, including him given a chance. He wasn't quite sure but sometimes it seemed a little odd that after a frustrating day she'd spend several minutes gnawing on his gloved wrists before being able to relax and fall asleep. She didn't hurt him and he had his own ways to vent but it would be an interesting conversation subject for the future. In the meantime he hoped that what he had in dry or cold storage would be enough to cover the needs of both until the expanded garden was in full production, which would take at least several weeks. He wanted to avoid as much as possible crops from above that tended to be full of chemicals and traces of radiation.

Perhaps it would be convenient to make her part of the whole process and that way begin instructing her through very practical examples. If he was going to be in charge of her well-being he'd have to introduce her to all those habits that made life harmonious and were in fact intimately connected to his own political beliefs. So instead of spoiling her rotten as his instincts would suggest or keep her inside a bullet-proof protective cocoon, he'd teach her how to tend to her own needs and be responsible for her actions and their respective consequences. Yes, he would teach her how to produce food and in time she could be in charge of his priceless collection of unspoiled seeds and the whole garden. Well, minus his roses. Nobody but him could touch the roses.

She also had a peculiar taste; he didn't know exactly how she'd done it with a bad leg but not three weeks after she had arrived he'd caught her sitting on top of the refrigerator and brandishing a spoon to attack the jar of mayonnaise as if it were ice cream. He probably should have said something but the image was so surreal that he kept staring at her until half of the mayonnaise was gone. Then she handed him the jar and the spoon she no longer needed and reached out with her slim arms to be helped down. She also had a thing for spicy foods, the hotter the better. She'd ruin the most delicate dish by sprinkling on it a mix of ground chili and lemon juice powder -enough to make her sniffle- that she'd found in a forgotten corner of the pantry. Then he had to protest; it was cute at first but she was wrecking his cuisine. Eventually they had reached a satisfactory agreement; she could have her ground chili with fruits and raw vegetables as a snack but never with cooked foods or as a replacement for real meals and if her sensitive-to-pills stomach objected to being fed such amount of spices, she'd have to cut down.

The little beast arrived after a handful of minutes with a small wicker basket full of assorted biscuits and reminded him of her disrespect for his personal space by placing it right on his lap, effectively turning him into her personal table. He suspected she already considered him her exclusive property if not a pet or even an extension of herself. The little thing certainly had possessive traits that sometimes resembled cannibalism more than anything. He was surprised she hadn't thought of taking a permanent marker to write her name across his forehead. She chose a film and climbed on the couch, cuddling with him after pressing play on the remote, pulling her small "telly blanket" over her legs and his arm over her shoulders. He really had to do something about her clothes; his old shirts, boxers and socks were enough to cover her properly but she didn't seem very capable of keeping her body temperature stable by herself, no matter how much food he put into her belly, no doubt because of her small size, very long limbs and insufficient weight, not to mention things hadn't been easy for her in the past and her system was definitely poorly nourished. He would have to make sure she wore proper warm clothes but he found it imprudent to start thinking on hydroponics gardens in full production and a petite-size winter wardrobe before a few matters had been settled for good. The little body felt cool next to him but in a matter of minutes the chronic shivering stopped once she'd stolen a good portion of his abundant warmth.

V thought the experiment with the current drugs was going well still and after probing his mind again relaxed in front of the screen, crossing his legs carefully to keep the biscuits basket balanced and let his mind wander briefly on another direction which involved a more immediate matter at hand since everyone inside his head seemed asleep; it would be interesting to see how things evolved once she realized there were no more shots on her schedule since her cuts had already closed after the last sutures were removed and she'd been free from evening fevers for days already. V decided not to say anything and acted as if watching cartoons was the only thing to do. The hour came for her next performance and V kept looking at the screen, quite comfortable on the couch while she was supposed to be watching "The Last Unicorn" for the fourth or fifth time since her arrival. The biscuits were long gone and the little body became very restless after an hour. She stirred on her seat next to him and under the light blanket covering her legs, unconsciously rubbing her sore bum and glancing to left and right, no doubt evaluating possible exits but not knowing if she should be escaping already, abandoning the warmth and comfort she was enjoying. She looked obviously torn between her fear for needles and her need for the next fix of enhanced attention she'd been waiting for practically since the last shot eight hours ago.

Her body language was so clear and betrayed her with such clarity that V could almost hear her thoughts, word for word. The little mouth seemed very close to saying something but words eluded her and all she could do was look up at him and then at the television screen, trying to calculate how much time had passed since the last shot. She touched her lips, probably trying to guess based on their meals but he could have changed the schedule easily to mislead her yet again and since she was always in the mood for food, her stomach wasn't a reliable time-measuring instrument. The movie kept playing and by the time it was almost over she was absolutely certain he was late on his mission to chase after her with a syringe. She felt him move and jumped startled but V simply shifted his position lazily and placed the empty basket on the rug to stretch his long legs, ignoring all the stirring and obvious discomfort taking place next to him. The movie ended and without saying a word he took a book from the small table and humming lightly as he turned the pages, sighed content while she grew more nervous by the minute. Then she stayed very still, chewing on her knuckle and obviously thinking. After a few seconds her already infamous wickedness failed her and she did what any other child on her position would do; she clutched the blanket tighter around her as if chilled to the bones with a high fever and sniffled dramatically. Oh, he was having such a good time watching her in action.

"Are you unwell, little one?"

A little sigh betrayed her relief at finally having his attention and she looked up at him with her eyes perfectly watery and her full lips pouting just so.

"I think I have a fever…"

"Do you? Let me see."

So, she'd chosen her fate after all; despite her fear for needles and her dislike for pills she'd decided to tolerate them in exchange for more affection and she was almost asking for more antibiotics. He took off his glove to feel the high forehead with the back of his fingers and naturally she let him, loving the attention.

"Hmmm. Yes, you are warm. Even your cheeks are red as ripe cherries."

"Fever again?"

"Could be but what if you are warm just because you've been eating butter biscuits under a blanket –and- cuddling with me?"

"Uh… are you going to risk it? I'm very fragile and I've been very ill, y'know."

There, she was good at acting but the prideful look that flashed in her eyes said it all; she wasn't feeling poorly, she was only looking for pampering, even at the cost of having her behind pricked with needles again. She sniffled again to stress her point and kept looking at him, resigned to her fate but pleased with knowing order had been restored. Still she couldn't help shivering at what she'd have to do next but she gathered her courage and asked the terrible question she'd never asked before.

"Time for my shot?"

He almost forgot about teasing her, she seemed so small but still willing to trade whatever she could in exchange for safety and affection.

"We had already completed the medication cycle."

"What? No more shots?"

Her look of surprise was almost impossible to decipher; she was at once relieved and happy for her sore bum but also disappointed because she had just lost her excuse to be pampered twice as hard.

"No, no more shots."

"Oh. So what now?"

She didn't need to be specific; both knew what she was talking about and if she was curious, he was completely confused. He'd been dumb enough to think only up to the point of telling her the shots were over and expected his now drugged wit to work from there and make everything right, something that for the moment seemed very unlikely and produced a very lame anticlimax. He hated that.

"I don't know but I'm sure we'll think on something."

"My behind was very sore already anyway."

"I'm sorry for that. So should we cook supper already? It's a little early but not too much."

"Can we stay here for a bit longer?"

"You are not hungry?"

"I'm always hungry but I just had biscuits and this is very nice."

"Very well, then. We'll stay here for a bit longer but then we'll cook supper."

"Okay."

They were both uncomfortable but at least they were uncomfortable together. Supper was a quiet and pensive time, a much needed moment for introspection and adjusting, perhaps even for mourning to ponder the passing of their chasing game before they came up with a new ritual to substitute the old one that had relied on something as temporary as a medical treatment that wouldn't be needed but for a few days. They turned in early, tired with sudden change and emotionally drained, hoping that a good night's rest would help clear their heads and get them closer to a satisfactory solution. Sleep came quickly and found them still uncomfortable but still together, with arms draped around each other and her head tucked under his chin, listening to his heartbeat as every night since the first night. Hours passed and although V did not dream, he could still hear a sweet voice calling him in his sleep. He tried to wake up but he was too tired and the drugs were still active in his system, making it twice as hard for him to respond. The voice was so familiar… yes; it was the caterpillar calling him. He tried to respond but a thick wave of sleep came from the depths to drag him back and although he tried, he couldn't fight it and once more sunk into deep slumber, with the sound of her voice becoming more and more distant as he fell.


	10. Chapter 10

**Mademoiselle E **

**Chapter X**

"_In fact I would say it's exactly the opposite, little E. I listen to everyone all the time."_

"_Not really, you hear but you don't listen. How could you be listening when you are saying no even before you are told anything?"_

- & -

V felt watched. He knew far too well what it was like to be watched. It was the kind of feeling he'd only had to experience once to then never forget. It made him feel helpless, hurt and yes, even dirty. He'd hated it since the first time and now his dreams disturbed his sleep to remind him of what it was like to be watched. He wished all his experiments with drugs had been successful at suppressing such dreams but so far nothing had worked to that specific effect. He sensed a pair of eyes just turning to him and the inevitable unpleasantness of it would soon follow. He tried to pretend he didn't care; at least nobody was touching him or trying to cut a little piece of him to look under a microscope. In his dream he looked away, just waiting for everything to be over, resigned to be observed like a rat in a lab cage.

The eyes were focused on him with great intent; he could feel the intense concentration behind them, all from a mind not only seeing but also thinking. He waited for the unpleasant feeling to wash over him as always but nothing came. He felt very much watched and yet he wasn't offended, which caused a small conflict inside him as he attempted to reconcile both facts. Someone asked a question and a second individual answered it to then return the favor and engage in a rapid exchange of information he couldn't follow. V didn't understand the words but he knew they were talking about him; probably evaluating his latest reaction to whatever they'd cooked in the lab for him. Too bad he was just a small rat; if he'd been a chimpanzee or something similar, he may have followed a few words, or perhaps it was best not to know anything anyway, he wasn't in pain and that should be good enough so they could watch and talk all they wanted.

Deep sleep took over him once more sparing him of further hurt, always looming behind the horizon and he was wrapped in an unexpected but comforting embrace of warm blackness that could have lasted hours or years, he didn't really care. His inner clock finally announced he'd slept enough and pushed him gently back into the conscious world to face a new day. The lights were out inside the bedroom as they should at that time and everything seemed in order; his room was quiet and still barely colder than at daytime –one of the advantages of living underground- and he was surrounded by old, familiar smells of wood and leather, recently enriched by new scents brought into his home by a squalid female creature too fond of mischief who seemed to have been mysteriously replaced by a pillow his arms insisted on holding. He stirred, still too sleepy to panic and then knew –felt rather- where she was and why; in the last days she'd made even more discoveries about him and her new world and as in the last few days, she was surely expecting him to start the day with one of such things. He didn't know how she managed to do it without waking him and her ribs and leg should still be sore, not to mention the little nose she still couldn't touch without twitching but she had quietly moved yet again during the night to settle behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist and draping her leg over his hip, pressing her chest to his back. She definitely had very little respect for his personal space and one day he'd have to tell her so.

"Hiiiii, V"

"Hrm… morning."

Oh yes, he could definitely kill for that greeting of hers, he thought as he yawned and stretched until his muscles trembled under the soft sleeping pants and shirt. She called it "That kitty thing you do" and although she found it entertaining enough, it was just an appetizer for what she was waiting for. She'd even started waking up a few minutes before him to be there when it happened, even if she went back to sleep for a little longer afterwards. He thought it was a little silly but she seemed to like it enough to ask for it, as if she could somehow plug herself to him like a little vampire and feel it as well, and he was making an effort at finding things he could use to his advantage so the new ritual spinning around asking and granting was already the first of many they performed during the day.

"V?"

"Yes?"

"Do it!"

"Say the magic word and I just might..."

"Pleaaaase?"

"Very well…"

He grinned to himself, almost able to see those big brown eyes under disarrayed locks, blinking once, twice to then stare at him, asking for whatever she felt her very life depended on at that particular moment, like carrots or the remote. Besides he couldn't say no to something so simple; after all they still had to patch things up after the "No-more-shots" incident of the previous night so starting the day with a little pampering that would help reinforce bonds of affection seemed like a good idea. Her slim arms squeezed him tighter and he felt her pressing harder against his back, knowing he would indulge her and enjoying the brief moment of suspense. He took a deep breath to focus and with practiced ease contorted slightly to crack every bone in his back, stiff and not quite aligned after hours of sleep.

"Wow! That was louder than yesterday!"

"Good?"

"Yeah!"

"I'm very glad you approve of my noisy vertebrae. Now go back to sleep, you've still got one more hour or so."

"Stay…"

"I really shouldn't, there are many things to do before your breakfast."

"You never stay…"

"Fibber, I stayed yesterday and the day before that."

"Okay, you don't stay often enough, then."

"You'll turn me into a sloth."

"I'm cold! Just five minutes?"

"Not this time, destroyer of discipline. Now go back to sleep."

"You are not going out now, are you?"

"Of course not. Why should you ask?"

"Just… curious."

"Hrm. Sleep. I'll come back and wake you soon."

"Okay…"

He didn't need to turn on any lamp to move about his room; he knew where everything was and the timer wired to the lights would soon start the "waking mode" to flood the hall and his bedroom with the faint glow that would replace the "night mode" with its barely existent presence. He hated bright lights so early in the morning and he'd grown used to something that wouldn't offend his unnaturally sharp senses, still resetting after a restful night in almost complete darkness. He liked to think it was close to following the patterns dictated by the sun above and such small act of obedience to nature comforted him with its gentle reminder of a still existent connection with the living world.

The fans were working already replacing the warm but stall night air and he wanted to use time wisely to shower, get dressed and eat before making the brat's breakfast she'd be screaming for from the bathroom in little over one hour. The girl moved a few inches to the left to occupy the warmer spot on the mattress he'd just cleared, complaining as usual of being cold. He placed the pillow he'd been holding in her arms and slipped out of bed, tucking her in so she wouldn't grow cold once fresh but chilly air from above filled every room. She'd sounded insecure again about letting him out of her sight, something he'd have to think about at length and make adjustments as soon as possible for his own benefit as well; they'd already spent too many days inside and although they were well-supplied despite her voracity and even when they appreciated each other's company, he was starting to feel the need to spend a little more time with himself, with or without work as his goal. Of course he didn't need her permission to go out and wasn't about to even start thinking he did but he wanted her to stay willingly, knowing he meant to be back.

The hall lights came to life as programmed at their second lowest level of intensity and he started counting his time, picking up a few items of clothing from the armoire and heading out, wondering what he would have for breakfast; something easy and yet sturdy enough to cushion the pills and the drops and the tablets he'd ingest before someone he didn't want to name had a chance to wake up from a chemically induced slumber to pester him with giving her back to people he didn't even know nonsense, something he still found simply ridiculous since she seemed perfectly well-adjusted at his home and with no apparent desire to leave. She'd even started to take care of a few chores that didn't involve lifting heavy things or risking hurting her leg again such as doing her laundry as soon as she was allowed to move around freely. Soon it would be time to pronounce her cured and then V planned to subject her to a brief period of physical therapy just to be sure her knee and ankle would not resent having the bandages removed and reassuming activity.

A quick visit to the kitchen on his way to the bathroom made time management more efficient and V knew exactly how much time he'd have to shower and get dressed based on the kettle's whistling on the stove. Five minutes for this, two for that, and he was perfect again, at least his outside reflected in the bathroom mirror. Morning tea was mandatory, a harmless and tasty stimulant to help him concentrate on specific tasks he'd have to complete before it was time to wake up the little beast nestling in his bed. He was starving and a generous portion of scrambled eggs filled a belly acquainted enough with hunger to be thankful for being fed with anything as long as it happened on regular basis. Small pieces of fruit disappeared in his mouth as he focused on cooking a second breakfast, this one meant to sedate for a short while the cannibalistic instincts of his voracious guest with humble offerings of cherry-flavored jelly, butter-dripping bread, light tea, a bowl full with a mix of cereal, fruit and plain yogurt and at the end and just to be sure, two large eggs.

The kitchen clock reminded him of his schedule and he interrupted his cooking to take half a minute to make sure he was decent and ready to be seen in public before heading back to his room to awaken the girl. He'd learned he had to be especially cautious of her hands because even one of her fingers could be treacherously dangerous and with one move he could be at great risk of being pulled yet again under the comforter for another 15 minutes of guilty laziness, boots and apron included. Luckily the little thing was still asleep but close to waking up by herself so all V had to do was sit on the bed and turn the small lamp on to help her complete the cycle. She grumbled, objecting to having lights in her face even if the lamp was set on low but he knew that without lights in the bedroom, she'd go on sleeping for hours, which would mean she'd have to dress up by herself and have her breakfast cold and without company.

"Good morning again, mademoiselle! Time to get up, we have a busy day ahead."

"Five minutes…"

"Five more minutes and then lights on high."

"Okay…"

Sometimes she needed a little time to make up her mind and leave bed. In a way he could understand her reasons; she would be delightfully safe, warm and comfortable and then a lunatic armed with a clock would come and expect her to leave all that and trade it for cold air, cold floors and cold lights. He got up and walked out to check everything was in order at the bathroom after he'd made use of the premises and on his way back turned the lights on as promised without saying a word once the five minutes were over. A curse could be heard from under the comforter and he smiled to himself on his way to the kitchen, already focused on the breakfast he'd left half-cooked. A sleepy commotion disturbed the peace of his bedroom and soon after a ghostly shape could be seen, wrapped in a flannel sheet and heading for the bathroom. The girl's health was far improved despite her sniffling claims to the contrary and she was now allowed to close the bathroom door since no emergency was expected but he could still hear the water running in the shower. She no longer needed to be carried back and forth and although he missed it, the screams demanding for food were still part of the routine.

The flannel ghost he's seen a few minutes before was replaced in the hall by a biped caterpillar wrapped in white bath towels running back to his bedroom, complaining to herself of cold floors. He knew then time for cooking breakfast was practically over and followed the little thing into the bedroom to help her complete her morning transformation. He enjoyed the task of changing her bandages and helping her get dressed; it was very much like playing with a living doll that had discovered it was immensely entertaining to dig in his things in search for something to wear instead of simply putting on what he'd laid out for her. She reminded him of fancy ladies picking jewels for a ball; wrapped in towels from head to toes, chewing on her lower lip and assessing colors and textures that would match to satisfaction. She'd already picked a pair of thick socks and warm flannel boxers but the shirt was the absolute star every morning, the sum of all her taste and ambition.

"Hmmm black, black, navy, dark grey, black, even blacker… Oh, I like that one! It's very thick and fluffy."

"Ah. It's a winter favorite but I'm afraid it is dirty. It shouldn't even be hanging in the armoire; it belongs in the laundry hamper instead. No, you can't wear this one. I'll take it away…"

"No, no! I want it!"

"You've just taken a shower, why would you want to put on a dirty shirt?"

"I like it when they smell like you. I put them on and then you are all around me, like a hug that doesn't end."

"Biting me isn't enough any longer so now you intend to wear me as well?"

"Yeah!"

"Fascinating. And now that the subject has come up, you little lady, need clothes of your own."

"I can't wear yours anymore? You've got plenty and I don't rip them or anything, not even your red kimono."

"Yes, I do have a wardrobe generous enough to share but you should have yours and I intend to do some shopping of my own as well."

"Are you going out, then?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Soon, I believe."

"Today?"

"Tonight, actually. Right after curfew would be fine. I'm not in the mood for crowds and there's a tasteful little shop I've wanted to visit for some time already. The owners are secretly Buddhist, not the last in all England, I hope. Their records have been recently cleared of any reference to religious flaws and I hope my little meddling keeps them safe in the future. Tomorrow morning they'll find fewer items on their shelves but far more money in the register."

"I'll have to stay? All by myself?"

"You are not easily distracted, I see. Yes, you'll stay here all by yourself. I should be back in two or three hours but you can go to bed as usual."

"Alone? I'm very cold at night."

"Or you can stay up watching a film if you'd prefer."

"The telly room is scary if you are not there…"

"Since when? My dear, I assure you I intend to be back as soon as possible and you'll be perfectly safe here. Don't you want to wear pretty things?"

"Yeah…"

"Then don't make me go out to get them feeling like I've abandoned you under a bridge."

"Okay…"

"So will you stay home and wait for me patiently?"

"I'll try."

"Good. I'll tuck you in before going out if you decide not to stay up."

"You said two hours, didn't you?"

"Three at most."

"You said two!"

"My, my! I'll need almost one hour to get there and then another to come back. Should I grab the first things I see? I don't even know what your size is yet."

"Okay, three hours but that's it."

"Very well, three hours for now. We'll work on your tolerance gradually."

"Huh? Are you going to leave me alone again?"

"Child, one issue at a time. Right now we are discussing the first stage of building your wardrobe."

"But you'll leave me alone again! You've just said so!"

"Can we discuss that later? Clothes first. Focus."

"Focus?"

"Yes, right now I want you to concentrate on your new clothes only. We'll discuss other matters tomorrow."

"Uh… okay. So can I wear anything I'd like?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

"Duh! I mean I won't have to wear a uniform or sissy dresses and stuff?"

"Should I believe you don't like dresses?"

"Yuck. I'm not wearing a pink dress or anything like that!"

"A pink dress, did you say?"

"Yeah, I'm not wearing that kind of stuff!"

"Such a pity, you'd look cute beyond words in a pink dress with lace and ruffles."

"I knew you were a pervert..."

"Hmmm… a pink dress. Yes, I like that…"

"V!"

"Yes?"

"Be nice!"

"I assure you I'm not personally into pink dresses."

"Oh really? You sound far too interested!"

"My interest on pink dresses is restricted to my work."

"That sounded even worse."

"I'll explain later. Maybe. So, my old shirts have been enough until now but you are spending far, far less time in bed now so I believe I should bring you some other basic things. I insist it's not right that you have to keep on wearing my clothes. I'm thinking you'll need shoes, a couple denims, cardigans, some blouses…"

"Tops!"

"Shoes, denims, cardigans, tops, one or two skirts…"

"Short skirts!"

"Short skirts? Aren't you always cold? So cold that you use me constantly as your personal portable radiator?"

"I love to do that... How about short skirts -and- knitted stockings? The ones with many rings of different colors?"

"Short skirts and colorful knitted stockings, very fashionable if you are a witch on an American film. Oh, and unmentionables."

"Unmentionables?"

"Knickers."

"Unmentionables!"

"You'll wet yourself if you laugh like that for much longer."

"Unmentionables!"

"Hrm…"

"Unmentionable knickers!"

"Remember you are wearing my boxers and I'd like them to stay dry."


	11. Chapter 11

**Mademoiselle E**

**Chapter XI**

"_I assure you I do my best at listening to you, little E."_

"_Only when what I have to say is included on a list."_

**- & -**

V loved explosions, even if they were small and harmless. The smell of popcorn had become one of his favorites and the transformation of hard golden kernels into fragrant clouds of salty white popcorn reminded him with the loudness of cannonade of the little pleasures of life he'd recently acquired, such as enjoying films and plays in the company of a dark little fairy in desperate need for new clothes. He decided to make a big bowl of popcorn to place on just such young lady's lap so she could watch a good film and remain fed and reasonably contained for three hours in their entirety while he was out "shopping" for clothes. He had suggested three times that she went to bed but doing so without him seemed utterly outrageous and just bringing it up made her frown as if she were listening to a speech from a Martian.

The thought of drugging her to have it over with already and take his sweet time picking clothes for her –and one or two items for himself- crossed V's mind as he made his pick of "Silence-in-my-head-pills" for the rest of the afternoon and early evening from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom but he immediately saw that although it would make things easier in the short term, at the end it would only worsen the situation and it was likely that before they knew it not only she wouldn't become more independent but she'd want to follow him even to the bathroom, which by the way, was just the case.

"Can I have one, too?" Said the little thing as she leaned on him, draping her arms around his waist and offering her open mouth with frightening trust. V wondered if there were limits to her confidence on being safe around him, a fragile little creature playing like that with such an unlikely pet. Perhaps that was the secret to why he felt such an intense drive to care for her; if she wasn't afraid of him and showed it, his aggressive instincts would not be disturbed and all the poetry would come to the surface, stirring the need to protect her in the process. It wasn't until that point that he became fully aware of the fact that before invading his home she must have interacted with other individuals with results unknown to him. It was curious; he had no idea of what she was like outside the Shadow Gallery, walking among commoners under the sun or the yellowish street lights. Perhaps she was just as trusting to everyone and that had led her to ending one special evening with a beating and a landing in a pile of very English and very dirty garbage. A small pain squeezed his stomach and he realized that no, he didn't want her to be like that to everyone, he didn't know why but he wished she sneered and snarled at everybody except him.

"Not one of these, little one. They are just for me."

"Why?" She asked right away, not as a complaint but out of sincere curiosity instead. He encouraged her to ask that question as often as she'd like and in return he'd try to give her a straight answer, all to avoid the use of an empty "Because-I-say-so" which he found not only repressive but lame as well. Fortunately she hadn't asked so far any questions he'd find too uncomfortable and he only hoped his reaction when she eventually did proved to be just.

"My chemistry is slightly different from yours and what benefits me could easily bring you harm."

"Ah. Then pick some good ones for me."

Children were designed to learn through example and empathy and she had already started to mimic some of his mannerisms and habits so it was just natural that she'd want to identify with him by copying or adapting his ways to her own. He decided it would be far more dangerous to forbid things she'd certainly end up doing anyway and in secret than steering her curiosity and need to bond on the right direction and as soon as possible before an impending puberty turned her into a small monster with a rabid need to contradict him and push him away. He reached inside the medicine cabinet and picked three different bottles containing vitamins she could have. He extracted one tablet from each, pushed an ascorbic acid pill into the waiting mouth and placed the remaining two on the palm of her hand. At last he'd found a sensible way to make her take the vitamins she'd rejected in the past because they had a "funny smell".

"These are all yours and I'll show you how to take them. I believe you'll need some water now."

The grinning head nodded emphatically and she ran to the sink to fill a glass and swallow her pills. She seemed quite pleased because now she had tablets of her own and he hoped she would feel far less tempted to meddle with the really interesting ones. Just in case he'd remove from the cabinet what could be harmful or simply inappropriate for her, like one or two kinds of drugs he sometimes had in order to expand his consciousness.

In the meantime it was time for him to cook the little beast's supper and check her notebooks to make sure she'd completed her daily assignments correctly. She seemed to understand algebra quite well but history confused her –probably because he'd started giving her a more realistic version of it that collided with what she'd been taught at school- and calligraphy was practically medieval torture although she had already made brave progress in turning her horrific handwriting into something more civilized.

It had taken him a couple weeks to discover what was wrong with her apparently clumsy hands but it was enough to watch her sitting on her left hand to force it to remain still while she struggled to write with the right one to reveal the key to the mystery; she was naturally left-handed but her former teachers must have tried to repress that tendency in favor of writing with the right hand and that had affected not only her writing but her self-esteem as well, so much that she kept following the instructions unconsciously. He wouldn't be surprised if she had been smacked mercilessly with a ruler since the age of five or six until she submitted and just thinking on such unnatural act of repression inflicted upon such a young child made him furious. She seemed utterly astonished when he announced she could let her hands decide which one would be in charge and she spent the following days knocking things over twice as often because her hands were suddenly confused in their newly achieved freedom and fighting openly for supremacy. Once the battle was over the girl's relief had been so great that she hadn't cared about having to start learning how to write all over again, this time with the right hand. He had a lovely fountain pen hidden in a drawer of his desk, waiting for her to improve just enough to use it and if everything went well, he could guess that in five or six weeks her left hand would be strong and sufficiently coordinated to give it a try.

Supper proved to be a lively and nervous event; the girl kept squirming in her seat and glancing at the clock, growing more nervous as time for curfew approached. For once she seemed more interested in playing with her food than in eating it and she even tried to discourage V from going outside, saying that she didn't really need new clothes and then claiming that she needed extra help with her homework, which he doubted was even close to the truth. He chuckled, amused and quite frankly moved at her display with its poorly hidden "Don't leave me" message. Just in case he touched her forehead before she came up with a fever excuse and she blushed at having her last ace up the sleeve found. She seemed to give up only after her homework had been checked, with barely minor corrections to be made and she settled for looking concerned.

"Three hours. No more." He said with perfect certainty to the small creature glued to his waist. "Or perhaps I should stuff you inside my clothing and bring you with me. I think you are small enough." He added playfully, making her laugh nervously.

"And what if you don't come back in three hours? It could take you longer. There are Fingermen outside, y'know."

"Hmmm. Yes, they are always a great annoyance. In such case I suppose you'd get to set some penalty."

"Like what?"

"How about taking off your socks in bed? Your little feet are awfully cold."

"V!"

"But they are…"

"Bad V!"

"It is true!"

"No, I'd have to think on something else."

"I trust you will be fair and sensible if I can't manage to be back in three hours or less."

"We'll see, we'll see."

"Settled, then. Now what is your shoe size, child?"

"Uh… I don't know. Shoes are always too big or too small." Neglect showed even on the smallest of things; apparently nobody had bothered to provide her with shoes of the right size or perhaps they had meant to but could never afford to. Both options gave him an unpleasant feeling in his stomach but it was too late for regrets and he intended to make things right from that moment on.

"Hmmm. Wait here, I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" She asked, slightly confused.

"To the office to get something." He replied as he stood up and walked away down the hall with quick and sure steps to return immediately with pencil, scissors and a roll of thick paper in hand.

"Please stand here." He instructed the girl as he extended a section of the paper over the stone floor, kneeling down next to it.

"Here? On this piece of paper?"

"Precisely. Very straight please."

"What are you doing, V?"

"I want to know the exact size and shape of your feet."

"You are tickling me!" She complained between laughs but still let him maneuver her little feet on the paper until they were straight and flat. He took the pencil and with surgical precision traced their outline, being especially careful with her delicate toes and the recently hurt ankle. Soon after he pronounced the drawing stage finished and she could finally remove her feet from the paper which he picked up and attacked with the scissors to free the little forms he'd produced with the pencil.

"There! These will work better than a simple measuring tape. Feet can be very difficult."

"What are you going to do with them, V?"

"Very easy, my dear. I intend to use them as models for picking your new shoes. I'll slide them inside and bring only the ones that can contain them comfortably."

"Wow… Will you have to draw the rest of me, too?"

"Oh no, the measuring tape will be enough for that. Now raise your arms please."

"Like this?"

"Perfect."

"V?"

"Yes?"

"Is it time already?"

"Not quite, my dear. It's barely ten o'clock and I'm not going out before curfew."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you go out only after curfew?"

"Hmmm, let's say that I don't like crowds."

"I don't like crowds either…"

"I had a feeling you didn't."

"And you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Now please turn to the left, I want to know what should be the minimum length of your skirts."

"Short skirts, remember?"

"But not too short, young lady."

"Okay… So is it time yet?"

"It's three past ten, child."

"Really? Something's wrong with time."

"Nothing's wrong with time, it's your anxiety."

"My what?"

"Your nerves."

"Ah."

"Stay put, little one…"

"I'm sorry, I want to pee."

"Go, go pee."

"I'll be right back!"

"Sure, you'll be right back…"

Eventually all measurements were taken and recorded, all assurances of a safe and quick return were refreshed, all instructions to use the television room were quoted and all warnings regarding the stove and the security systems were delivered and right after curfew V was ready to leave after showering to remove from his body the betraying smell of popcorn he'd just made for her. He had changed silk and velvet for something more modern and appropriate for a night out but the girl still wasn't too sure about that tight-fitting black outfit she'd seen twice already, so distant in time and style from his usual Jacobean wardrobe or the soft trousers and shirts he wore for bed. It seemed completely out of place in the more theatrical atmosphere of the makeup room where she'd followed him and she had trouble reconciling the still unfamiliar image with the body language she recognized. The replacement of the silky wig for a tight black hood and the displacement of the porcelain mask in favor of a much more discreet black version made her frown, as if she could no longer recognize him. She had to reach up to feel it with the tip of her fingers and it was so thin in comparison to the cold porcelain she was used to that she found it too strange to touch. She removed her small hands immediately and stared at them as if they were stained with some invisible substance.

"Don't know if I like this one. It's…warm."

"This black mask?"

"Yeah…"

"Hmmm. I've just thought of something. Here, keep an eye on the other until I return," He said as he reached across the vanity to take the mask he'd been wearing earlier to then present it to her ceremoniously. "And you can keep it if I'm back late. That will be my penalty." She seemed to doubt but her hands lost no time in accepting it and the gentlest of tugs proved she was actually holding the white mask with a very firm grip.

"V, Are you sure? If I win and keep this one it would be very indecent of you to go about… naked."

He just had to laugh; in a way it made sense for her that without the mask he'd be completely naked and she found it unacceptable and probably quite scandalous.

"No, no, I do have others of the same sort. Fear not, young one, I wouldn't shock you with my indecency."

"Okay. Time to go now?"

"Yes. I'll join you in watching the beginning of your film and you won't even know when I'm gone."

"Yeah. Right. Sure."

They walked down the hall and into the television room where the bowl of popcorn was waiting for a ferocious mouth to put it out of its misery and both black-clad gentleman and young lady sat down on the black couch, ready for the film to begin. V reached for the remote and pressed play in a motion practiced a thousand times. The girl was absolutely sure she'd be able to tell the exact moment when he left but the butter was delicious and the movie distracted her and at some point during the slow part she looked down to find that her bowl of popcorn was half-empty already and V's spot on the couch was cold as ice.


	12. Chapter 12

**Mademoiselle E **

**  
**

**Chapter XII **

_"Well, you tend to be a little too dependant of me, little E." _

_"Maybe but__ Frasier Crane would call –you- fussy." _

_"I am shocked…" _

- **& -   
**

V couldn't remember having so much fun with mischief that didn't involve violence and he only hoped the little caterpillar wasn't crawling up the walls or attempting to dismantle his electronics with a kitchen knife while he was away. He had provided her with the planned giant bowl of butter-dripping popcorn and the extended version of one of her favorite films of adventures and mythical creatures that she hadn't seen yet. Hopefully that would keep her calm and away from breakable artwork she already knew she wasn't even supposed to touch, even if she developed a fixation over elves.

The fun started soon after leaving the Shadow Gallery; he didn't resent his recent seclusion even though it had put his world upside down but in all honesty he had missed even the fetid smell of the garbage-plagued city and the morbidly faint street lights that distorted shadows and actually helped him to stay hidden from indiscreet eyes. He had also missed being able to run and jump freely and his muscles reminded him of how much he had neglected his physical maintenance to fill his days with unexpected new duties that included helping a living doll to comb her hair every morning and evening. It was also true that he felt the need to be away for a short while to remember what it was like to be male without fear of shocking, hurting or scandalizing a young lady's notions of propriety if he forgot for one second to be elegant and perfect.

He looked for a safe spot on the roof of an abandoned building right on his way and stole five precious minutes from his fashion mission schedule to dive quickly into a mental state quite similar to meditation to enjoy his recovered freedom and once rejuvenated headed for the small shop he'd chosen, with a large black canvas bag tied to his back, a list of items and measurements in one pocket and a thick roll of unmarked notes in another. He could have stolen everything as he often did but he had no interest in harming common citizens in the process of acquiring whatever he desired so he preferred to save his illicit shamelessness for government property, which included raiding its bank accounts every other month and from the comfort of home with the help of a well-behaved computer terminal.

His mission was one of very personal domestic nature but that did not imply he'd disregard safety and he'd brought his wit and usual array of electronics that helped him hear and see everything around him. Fingermen and surveillance teams were conducting their usual activities in patterns he was familiar with and avoiding them completely or staying hidden not one foot away if so he wished recovered its spot as one of his favorite games to play when he was out. Unfortunately he didn't have too much time to spare so he kept his risky dance under strict control to carry on his mission before time ran out. He'd certainly tell the little vampire about it and even suggest she learned how to play so they could go out together once she was fully healed and instructed if so she desired.

A few more blocks to the North and then to the East and he had arrived safely at his destination. The place was deserted as he hoped and he spent a handful of minutes hidden in the shadows to watch and see to be completely sure it was safe to proceed. Sneaking inside the shop turned out to be a small challenge since the owners lacked the means to install electronic security and had settled for old but solid locks and chains. V's lock-picking skills were a little rusty but some practice reminded his wrists of the correct series of gentle motions he had to perform and in a matter of two minutes he was inside the shop, ready to scan the whole place for cameras and microphones. He doubted the owners had installed anything since the last time he had visited the establishment some months ago, disguised as a shaggy teenager who asked too many silly questions, but he always chose to be sure.

Patience is a virtue and he took his time swiping the premises with one of his favorite modified gadgets and once certain of the complete lack of electronic devices, walked around the shop, placing small bugs of his own in every window and door to avoid being surprised by unwanted company. He looked at shelves and displays, taking mental notes on the exact location of everything he was looking for before producing his shopping list. It would seem like a waste of time but he loathed not knowing where things had been placed, which at the end would cost him considerably more minutes if he had to go back on his steps to fetch some forgotten item.

The shop was as small as he remembered and the owners spent probably half of their income bribing corrupt authorities to keep it stubbornly supplied, which would explain their high prices and remarkably good taste. The general aura of the place tended to follow the unwritten rules of blandness in style so necessary to survive in a dictatorial state where nobody wanted to stand out for reasons of survival but the materials were of quality above average and there were even small explosions of individuality here and there, showing discreetly in a brighter shade of color in the hem of a shirt or on a lady's skirt half an inch shorter than necessary. Fortunately children's clothes could still get away with a little more merriment and he could see machine-made embroidery over cardigans or trouser pockets displaying farm animals and flowers, some of which were already extinct.

But first things first, he thought, and as a methodical mind would do, he headed for the small shop's wall of drawers behind the old wooden and glass counter that contained underwear for girls. He went through the items, sorted by sizes supposed to fit young females of specific age groups and experienced a brief moment of confusion when he found the drawer devoted to the caterpillar's demographic group. As expected he found knickers in soft pastels but they all seemed small for girls of the age they were supposed to be worn by, even if they were petite. He picked the very feminine yellow pair at the top of the pile, the one with three parallel lines of what should be uncomfortable to wear crispy lace decorating the back all across the buttocks and tested its elasticity by pulling with both hands on opposite directions. The garment proved to be quite accommodating thanks to materials he wasn't expecting to find on female underwear since his own was comfortable but not that flexible and then it seemed perfectly possible that she could wear them comfortably.

Right next to the knickers and in obvious matching pairs there were small brassieres. He had no plan for bras; the caterpillar had not brought them up and he didn't even think she needed a bra to begin with. From what he could recall, her nipples were barely starting to swell and he didn't know if that was enough to justify the use of those small pastel things. He picked one up and decided that although the garment was pretty and seemed small enough to surround the slim torso properly, the small cups would still be too large for her to fill. Perhaps she was after all too small for her age and if he looked in another drawer for younger girls he'd find something more appropriate, even if she had not mentioned anything of the sort. No, he'd better leave those fabric enigmas alone until he'd found out more about them or until she mentioned them specifically. Besides he was almost sure brassieres were some sort of taboo subject not to be discussed except within the boundaries of one's own gender. He's seen through surveillance cameras and windows what young males tended to do with brassieres if they managed to steal one and considered that although putting one over his face to then pretend it was a mask seemed entertaining enough, it would be too distracting for the moment and time was short. Just in case he slid one inside his pocket, one he wouldn't give her or even mention because he planned to find out later and in private what the male fuss over brassieres was all about.

On the other hand the knickers seemed perfectly safe and a dozen of them were slid inside a small plastic bag that fell to the bottom of the canvas bag he had brought with him. V wrote down the exact cost of the garments on his shopping list –including that of the mysterious illicit bra- next to their name and moved on to the next row of drawers, where socks and tights were kept. They had them short and long, white or colorful, delicate or thick. He picked a pair of each kind he saw, not knowing exactly which ones she'd prefer. The knitted stocking she'd specifically asked for were on sale and he took all five pairs, grinning at the girl's scandalous sense of fashion.

Every section devoted to girls was visited and every drawer lost at least one item that fit his guidelines –he hoped things would fit since the girl's age and his measurements didn't make sense when compared with what the stickers in the clothes said a female of her age should wear and he had to pick clothing from the immediately younger group instead, thus proving his young guest was indeed smaller than average as he had suspected- and every little garment was placed in a plastic bag to keep it safe from dust or water during the hazardous trip back home with the same care as each item's price was added to the list. His personal choice of colors was usually restricted to dark shades but she had admitted early on to preferring bright colors and he felt reasonable confident in choosing her new clothes by following tree simple guidelines; right size, short skirts, and vibrant colors.

The shoes seemed interesting as well and although he had seen what young girls liked to wear, he wasn't sure about what would be right for his peculiar little angel. He tried to remember what kind of shoes she'd been wearing when they met but only the fact that she'd lost one came to mind so he had to decide by himself. He slid the sturdy paper forms inside every pair of shoes he could find that didn't look too childish or too mature. She also had very delicate feet so he refused to even touch what didn't seem of top quality. At the end several pairs of different styles were claimed after passing his empiric tests and were slid inside their respective plastic bags before being placed in the big canvas bag that grew heavier and thicker by the minute even though the list of things he wanted to purchase had been covered already. V kept repeating to himself, "We are here already…" and "We've still got plenty money to spend…" or "We've still got time for a little more shopping…" and he kept adding more things, including several shirts for himself, boxer shorts, fine socks, and two ridiculously fluffy pajamas he couldn't stop touching.

V walked next to the toiletries small cabinet and although they had not mentioned anything related to them he decided to take the lead and surprise her with a small collection of little soaps, strawberry shampoo, cinnamon tooth paste, body lotion –her dry skin flaked so easily that he'd felt tempted to soak her in a bath of warm olive oil- and a coquette set of comb and brush, hand mirror, perfume, and clear nail polish and lip gloss, all inside a small see-through pink plastic bag.

There were a few toys on display V had barely seen until then, being so focused on his list of items. They were stuffed animals mostly that waited patiently for a child to pick them up and take them home where they belonged. They looked so lonely there, sitting in a single queue over the counter with their plastic eyes shining in the dim light like unshed tears of hopeful longing. He had collected a handful of toys over the years but he'd soon lost interest on them and they were stored somewhere he couldn't quite recall so having them in such state was as good as not having any toys at home the little vampire could play with. He wondered if she would like a teddy or anything of the like, perhaps a tortoise or a giraffe. It was such a pity that Africa no longer existed as a living continent; he would have loved to see a real giraffe. No, they didn't seem to have a giraffe for sale so he took the one with the saddest expression and big ears that sat in the middle of the pitiful row and as he pushed it into the bag he imprinted in his mind the task of asking the little caterpillar what sort of toys she preferred.

The cylindrical canvas bag was full, the list was more than covered, and V had finished his shopping session 20 minutes before planned. He loved breaking his own records. The long list of prices was produced and his quick mind calculated the total amount he owed to the shop, secret bra and toy included. He opened the small register and slid the right number of unmarked notes inside, remembering with a grin to take his change and one single mint lollipop from a jug next to the register that read "Thank you for your purchase".

The electronic devices he had installed temporarily near windows and doors were working as expected, letting him know of everything that went on outside and jamming indiscreet frequencies that could reveal his presence and as always he spent some good five minutes in complete silence, just taking in all the data his artificial eyes and ears were feeding him. He waited until the latest surveillance van patrolling the neighborhood was long gone and then conducted a thorough last check of the place to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything he'd brought with him and that he'd left everything where it belonged before removing bugs on his way out, starting with those in the far back. The canvas bag was placed out of sight outside of the shop and chains and locks that until then had only "seemed" to be in place in case someone across the street looked out the window, recovered their protective nature.

The moon was dangerously full but V loved taking a few risks here and there and the sharp contrast of light and shadow allowed him to literally play and perfect his skills to stay out of sight. He secured the heavy canvas bag to his back with practiced ease and slid into the nearest alley to follow the detailed map of the London streets that he stored inside his head to return home using a different route than he'd used to get to the shop.

V was stupidly pleased with himself, so much that he didn't care about having to carry on his back a canvas bag of approximately the same size and weight of his female guest through hidden passages, alleys, dusty roofs and muddy canals under ancient stone bridges used mostly by Roman ghosts, rats and outlaws. His muscles were warm already and he was strong and skillful enough to handle such burden with ease and the novelty of his "mission" was enough to make him chuckle; practically giggle at the turn of every corner.

Soon, he thought. Soon he'd be home. He had more than enough time but he found himself practically running. He had to stop for a whole minute to explore that chirping new feeling inside him and couldn't help grinning when he realized he was in such a happy hurry to be back because for the first time in his life someone was at home waiting, looking forward to seeing him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Mademoiselle E**

**Chapter XI****II**

"_V, you always say I shock you! Poor little me shocking a big guy like you? I don't think so."_

"_My dear, you don't have to be tall to be terrifying."_

**- ****& -**

Just one more mile, V thought. Just one more mile and he'd be home. His mind was focused on getting home safely but a fraction of his thoughts was not exactly on the same page and although his inner voices were still reasonably sedated, those stray thoughts kept leaping ahead in time trying to calculate what would happen in the next few hours. He had to admit he was very much looking forward to seeing the girl's reaction when he opened the canvas bag to show her every new item he'd brought with him and from what he knew of women –either big or small- she might be tempted to try everything on and reward him with an improvised fashion show.

Very few sounds disturbed the imposed peace in the city. All dramas, crimes and conspiracies happened in silence since it was easier to shush them than to suppress them altogether. A pair of strong legs moved mercilessly, devouring distance just as quietly as common citizens devoured their sorrows in a land that found weeping suspicious and even subversive.

V looked over his shoulder one last time before taking the last turn that would lead him to one of his favorite gutters, right under an old bridge. He liked it because it was well hidden, operational despite its appearance and wide enough to let him pass without having to remove the heavy canvas bag containing one and many treasures he'd just acquired. He secured the entrance carefully and reassumed his return home after spending a minute listening to every sound around him to make sure he was alone. He tended to grow over-confident near the Shadow Gallery and he had to force his mind to stay fully alert in order to detect any intruders whose dangerousness would multiply if they happened to find –his- tunnels.

Five minutes later the outer perimeter was reached and the right codes were pressed on carefully hidden keys to let him in. The second and third sections were crossed just as carefully and he sighed relieved every time he heard the series of clicks inside the locks that sealed each section again. Seeing the heavy wooden door, last in the line of defense, was always heart-warming and he spent several heartbeats just enjoying seeing it again. He looked at the wristwatch under his glove to make sure he still had time to spare and opened his arms dramatically –he rarely missed a chance to perform, even if he was alone- and cleared his throat before chanting the code words that would activate the electronic locks to the last door before home. Of course he could open the door manually if he chose to but that wasn't fun and he was in the mood for a little more fun. He created a brief dramatic pause for his own amusement and with exquisite accent quoted the magic words.

"Open sesame…"

The door answered his call with a whining welcome and V pushed it open to cross the threshold and close it behind him. He sighed relieved once it was properly locked and turned to walk into the foyer where he was immediately attacked by a black entity that looked too much like him. Perhaps he'd finally lost it after taking all those pills; he knew it could happen eventually. The weight of the canvas bag made him lose his balance completely and he ended up on the floor with it still tied to his back and the black creature clinging to his neck and waist with unnatural strength. This time he'd underestimated the effects of everything he had taken and his mind was playing very new and very sick tricks. He should have known better; his own self had turned against him and now it wanted his blood.

The black creature kept staring at him from behind its white mask, keeping him perfectly mesmerized, like a snake charming a sparrow. He couldn't move, he could hardly breathe and then it occurred to him that this is what his enemies should feel like upon seeing him, one brief second before they died. He wondered if his time had come, thinking that it would be ridiculous to go with the soundtrack of "Little Shop of Horrors" playing on the Wurlitzer but then the black creature giggled behind the mask, using a voice far too real and he had to laugh his relief, finally recognizing the little vampire wearing among other things the mask he'd told her to keep if it took him more than three hours to be back.

"Hiiiiii!" She greeted him playfully as she removed the mask from her face, still squeezing him possessively with arms and legs.

"Good evening, mademoiselle! I'm afraid that in the future I will have bad dreams based on this exact moment, evil dentist's song included."

"Nah! I give people good dreams. Aren't your dreams better since you found me? Hmm? Hmm? Aren't they? I'll bet they are!"

The child was right; his dreams had changed and although they were still peculiar to say the least, they had lost their previous edge and now he could tell the difference between dream and reality instantly, something that he hadn't been able to achieve in all the years his limited memory could remember. He had been so busy adapting to his new life that something so subtle had not been noticed clearly enough to make him think on it after the first few days and it wasn't until she mentioned it that all made sense; somehow she could affect his dreams, surely by keeping his mind occupied with affairs more pleasant than he was used to.

"Actually they are. Yes… I noticed at first but then forgot…"

"See? Told you."

"How did you know?"

"Happens all the time! You see, I make it happen."

"You make it happen?"

"Yeah, when people sleep near me, things look better in their dreams."

"You have this effect on everyone?"

"Uh-huh."

"Fascinating. I will think about it and ask you a few questions in the near future regarding this uncanny power of yours. Now tell me, your film has a slow part after all as I dare guess based on your current absence from the television room?"

"Yeah."

"And did you become restless eventually?"

"Only in the last fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes?"

"Okay, thirty minutes."

"Still very good all considered. You visited the makeup room, I dare presume?"

"Yeah!"

"You visited only the makeup room and none other?"

"The makeup room and the loo."

"Both far safer than other rooms in here. By the way, that is my best wig you are wearing. It's made of real hair cut from a virgin's head. Or so read the price tag."

"Ha! –My- hair is prettier and I'll bet she wasn't even a real virgin, like me."

"Hmmm."

"…or you."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing!"

"Hmmm. And that is the dirty cloak I had put in the laundry hamper."

"It smells like you! Oh yeah, and I was at the laundry room too, now that you mention it."

"Thank you. And what else did you play with at the laundry room?"

"I spent there just a minute or so. The makeup room is better by far."

"I tend to think the same. And what did you play with at the makeup room? Besides my wigs, I mean."

"I turned your small telly on but everything sucked. I played with your combs and your pretty brushes…oh, and I got this close to putting on your big belt."

"With the knives, I suppose."

"Of course. They are pretty, too!"

"And what stopped you if I may ask?"

"You did, actually. I was trying to drag a chair to climb on so I could reach the belt up on the shelf when I heard the locks clicking and the door opening so I ran to greet you."

"Very nice of you. So in theory if I had arrived five minutes later, you would have greeted me with equal enthusiasm plus six sharp borrowed knives swinging loosely around your waist?"

"I suppose. Why do you ask…? Uh oh. Not a good idea, right?"

"Just the part with the knives, my dear, the rest is actually quite endearing."

"Then it's a good thing that you got home early, huh?"

"Oh yes."

"By the way, what are they for? I don't think they are for showing off…?"

"They are certainly not, my dear. Shall we discuss that specific subject some other time? Tonight is new wardrobe's night."

"Okay."

"Now tell me, did you miss me?"

"Yeah! And you? Did you miss little me?"

"Not at all, I even forgot to bring clothes for you. This bag is full of cigarettes, cheesy pornography, cheap liquor in plastic bottles, and loud pajamas for me."

"Liar!"

"Indeed. Would you like to see your things now or would you rather enjoy the suspense and wait until the morning?"

"Now, now, now!"

"I had a feeling you'd say so. Now please let me recover my verticality. I feel like a tortoise with the belly up."

"You are not supposed to fall, V! We'll have to practice this some more."

"Does that mean you'll continue attacking me in the future?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Next time I'll be ready…"

The girl giggled again, making him remember why he'd been in such a hurry to be back and after some fussing with the illicitly borrowed cape she managed to disentangle her thin limbs and let him go. It would be incredibly impractical to even attempt standing up from that position and V simply slid the straps off his shoulders, leaving the bag exactly where it was to then stand up without it.

"Wow! V, it's huge!"

"And as heavy as it appears to be but for you, mademoiselle, I managed." He added with a voice that had sounded a little more smug than necessary but she seemed even more impressed, which made him forget how tired he actually was. Before finding her he couldn't remember what female praising felt like but now she gave him a teaspoon of it at least once every day and he was becoming quite addicted to it.

"Should we open it here?" She asked after trying and failing to drag it by one of the straps, still wearing his favorite wig and his dirty cape.

"Perhaps we should change first."

"Nice! I still think you look odd on that, with a black mask and all. Here, put the pretty one back on. I kept it safe and you got home on time so it's yours again. A deal is a deal, right?"

"Certainly. Now please put my other things back exactly in the same position you found them while I take this bag to the bedroom and change."

"Yes, sir!"

"Please brush the wig gently."

"Umm…Okay!"

The little thing wrapped the cape dramatically about her shoulders in her best Lugosi impression and ran to complete her tasks, batting her arms and making screeching little sounds that resembled a bat's vocalization. V thought there wasn't a prettier vampire in the whole universe and that her injured leg seemed to be working quite well after some basic physical therapy. He'd inspect it one last time in the morning just to satisfy his neurotic need to fuss over her health. He bent down and tried to pick up the canvas bag to carry it in his arms but a sharp pain in his lower back suggested that he had already spent most of his energy bonuses for the evening and since the caterpillar wasn't looking, he felt free from having to keep on impressing her and settled for taking the bag by the straps to drag it into his room as quietly as possible.

It wasn't until he reached his destination, having looked over his shoulder two or three times to make sure she wasn't around that he realized he'd been showing off, practically posing to -once again the word came to mind- impress her and that it wasn't the first time he'd acted like that. Although he loved neatness it was true that before her arrival he could easily play the bachelor and spend whole days without putting any clothes on unless he had to cook or work with chemicals but now he felt the drive to look perfect, even at bed time and exclusively for the sake of getting good reviews. The evil fairy contributed actively to his new habit by praising his taste and elegance with a whole repertoire of expressions of appreciation that went from sparkling glances and slightly vulgar whistling to long hugs intended to work as excuses for her to touch fabrics she favored. Even when she'd asked for regular –if colorful- clothes any other child could wear, the brat insisted he wore his best as often as possible so if he felt like wearing pajamas all day long she wouldn't object but he'd have to put on his finest. She'd gone over his whole home wardrobe –he'd managed to keep his work clothes safe and out of her reach only because he had enough technical excuses to justify their existence- discarding what she thought was below his dandy status and declaring that she loved to see him in brocade and silk, with velvet occupying an honorable third spot, and wool on a fourth. Linen was considered casual wear and cotton was at the bottom of her scale. She also found the smell of fine leather intoxicating and at certain times it seemed to put her in a light trance, something he discovered one morning when he caught her sitting on the floor in a corner of his bedroom, sniffing his new pair of boots with a blissful expression.

His slightly-out-of-shape body screamed for a hot shower and a cup of tea before bed but he wanted to be there to see her reaction when she saw her new things, perhaps to satisfy an ego that had recently proved being a little shallower than he expected so the comfort of his body would have to wait a little longer. On the other hand he felt tempted to make her wait for another 15 minutes while he showered and changed but she had already waited three hours without causing any damage to her person or to the Shadow Gallery and that deserved to be rewarded with no more waiting for the rest of the evening. He also had a secret weapon he hoped to try; the mint lollipop he had taken from the jar next to the register at the shop.

Changing became a small dilemma, he wondered if he should put on day clothes or sleep clothes or save time and energy by stripping and putting on his conveniently concealing bath robe since he planned to take a shower as soon as possible but the little thing would show in a minute and he didn't want to be caught changing. He decided to remain as he was until he could take his much needed shower and simply change masks since that had been her main complaint. Hopefully that would be enough and she wouldn't mind it that he'd substitute briefly the wig with a tight-fitting black hood. He finished securing the straps around his head and looked at his image in the mirror to make sure everything was in order before she arrived.

"Aha! There you are!"

"Back off, she-devil!" He said as he turned around to face her, brandishing the mint lollipop in the same fashion vampire hunters held crucifixes to protect themselves from an attack and his device worked indeed, making her freeze right on the spot before she managed to pounce him again as she clearly had intended to.

"Lolli!" She squealed delighted, momentarily distracted from everything except sweets. She played along, hissing dramatically and trying to snatch the lollipop from his hand. Her interpretation was too much and he laughed, unable to keep up with the farce. He admitted his defeat and bowed gallantly, offering her the sweet. "Mine!" She declared proudly as she took the lollipop and removed its cellophane wrapping with impatient fingers. She held the sweet up and admired the ruby solid caramel for a long time. The smooth brow furrowed briefly, reflecting that perhaps the girl was trying to remember when she'd been given a lollipop last. She seemed to give up and put it in her mouth before Fate had a chance to take it away from her. The flavor flooded her and soon she was sighing and making small grunting sounds of pleasure.

"Good?"

"Yes! Thank you, monsieur V."

"You are very welcome. Should we see your things now?"

"I had forgotten about them! Yes, let's see my things. Pleasy weasy please."

"With a cherry on top?"

"Ha! Yes, pleasy weasy please with a cherry on top!"

"How could I say no after that? Now, where to start… What do you think, child? Should we see your things as they come out of the bag or would you prefer to see them in some specific order instead?"

"Hmmm… Empty the bag on the bed. No! Small things first. But wait! Big things first. Umm… socks! Uh… I dunno…"

"Perhaps we should wait until the morrow?"

"Oh, no! I wouldn't be able to sleep. You choose, then."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

"Very well. Let's see what we've got here…" His long fingers unzipped the bag and he blocked her view with his body, still in a playful mood. The girl read his intent and let him do, all the time trying not to bounce on her heels. V knew exactly where each item had been placed inside the bag and decided not to show her a few things just yet, thinking on possible future advantages. The toiletries and the stuffed animal were pushed deeper into the bag next to his own things to wait for their debut at a convenient time and he produced a few items following his shopping order. He handed her ceremoniously the plastic bag containing her new underwear and she poured its contents on the bed, creating a waterfall of pastel cotton.

"Knickers!" She exclaimed delighted, picking them up to see them closely, marveled at their softness. Next she was given the plastic bag with socks and tights and she emptied it over the bed also, establishing a new ritual. She wasn't done looking at them when a heavier third bag containing small tops was placed on her hands, and then a fourth with short skirts and a fifth with denims. The girl's eyes grew wider by the minute and her protector's pride seemed to grow at approximately the same pace. The shoes closed the evening's show after the cardigans and a small coat finished their performances and V created a brief dramatic pause before handing her a plastic bag containing a pair of lovely black leather shoes with thin straps and soft rubber soles, just the sort a fine young lady would wear for school. She reached inside the bag and extracted one shoe and then the other, looking at them with a serious expression.

"V?"

"Yes?"

"These shoes are new."

"Of course they are. I just bought them."

"No, I mean they are… new-new."

Then it hit him; she wasn't even used to wearing shoes no one else had worn before her. For a moment he didn't know what to say, being so focused on reading her confused expression. She kept looking up at him, holding one shoe on each hand and practically asking him what to do with them. The situation would have been hysterically funny if it hadn't been so devastatingly telling but he didn't want to ruin the happy occasion. He cupped her face and ran his thumbs over her cheeks, partly to reassure her, partly because he'd just decided he'd earned the right to.

"Absolutely new-new and completely yours-yours, my dear. The leather is quite fine but a little stiff so you'll have to break them in."

"Uh-huh…" She agreed with a nod of her head, still looking a little confused but with a new and delightful aura of whispered complicity, as if both had stolen the shoes from the Chancellor himself.

"I also found these brown boots, a pair of lovely red plimsoles that I believe will go well with your new denims, and a pair of casual flip flop slippers. Oh, and these things that look like dinosaur feet. I'm afraid I'm not sure about what you should wear them with, probably with your pajamas."

"More shoes!" She squealed again in a high pitch he couldn't possibly reproduce and ended up holding all five pairs in her arms, not wanting to let any down, not even to try them on.

"I wonder how you will manage to take the rest of your things now."

"Uh oh. I guess I'll need more hands. V, everything's so pretty!"

"I was hoping you'd say so. Now tell me, was the reward worth the wait?"

"Yeah!"

"I can't promise it will be like this always but I'm very glad you are pleased."

"I am! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You are the best, y'know."

"Flatterer. Oh, do not remove the price tags yet. If something does not fit we'll put it away and take it back later to have it replaced."

"Huh? We can do that?"

"Of course we can."

"And can I try them on now?"

"I don't know, little one, can you?"

"Duh! –May- I try them on now?"

"They are yours; you may if such is your wish."

"It is!"

"Then do as you please."

"I'm trying on everything! Wanna watch?"

"I wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China."

"V, that has to be a whole lot of tea."

"It is, although not as much as it used to be a few decades ago."

"V?"

"Yes?"

"Is China …still… out there?"

"It was last time I checked some three months ago. Still there and improving, at least the half that survived."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Really, really?"

"Mmhmm."

"And their neighbors to the East?"

"Still there."

"And Genghis' people with their portable homes? With their horses and camels? And their sheep and dogs?"

"Still there also. Right now they must be at the winter valleys and they'll stay there until May when the grass is green again. But you were about to try on your new wardrobe, I believe."

"Yes! Any requests?"

"Considering it's very late I'd suggest we see a few representative examples only. Tomorrow you can try on every single garment."

"Hmmm… okay! First I'm trying on this skirt and that top…Wow, they are gorgeous! Turn around, V, I'm going to change so don't look."

"-Now- you are developing modesty?"

"V!"

"Apologies. Let me know when you are ready."

"Just a minute, just a minute…okay… ta-da!"

He turned to see what she'd managed to put together after less than two minutes and there she stood, grinning in the middle of his bedroom, wearing a short navy blue skirt that barely concealed his bunched up boxers, a pale blue knitted top, a pair of long white socks and her black Mary-Janes. She looked so different out of his clothes, delicate and elegant, with a long and fragile neck he'd never noticed before, hiding as it was under his shirts' collars. She was so beautiful that it made him sad. What kind of world, he wondered, could treat beauty with such cruelty? He took a deep breath to regain control over his body language before she noticed something had changed and the grin on her face helped to dissipate his somber thoughts. "Well, well." He said as he admired the girl's looks. "There was a very pretty girl hiding under my shirt!" He clapped a few times and her grin only grew wider, making him feel warm inside. She yawned but still made him turn again and slipped into a pair of denims that transformed her into a tomboy, charming but capable of any mischief, either big or small.

It was very late already and he reminded her that she needed to sleep and that she could try the rest of her presents in the morning. He also wanted to show her his own new things and they would need time for that. She nodded her head and rubbed her eyes with her small fists, finally admitting that she was sleepy and drained.

"Umm…V?" She asked as she looked around the chaos of clothes lying over the bed, the furniture and even the rug.

"Yes?"

"And where are we going to put -all- this?"

"Eh… good question. You have ten minutes to find a solution and clear at least the bed while I shower. I hate filth." He said as he pushed the still heavy bag under the bed to keep it out of the way and out of her reach.

"Ten minutes! I'll need at least fifteen!"

"I'm in such a generous mood tonight. Fifteen minutes, then. Go." A small storm was unleashed inside the bedroom and the girl used her last portion of energy to run around the bed, picking up things and pushing them back into the plastic bags they'd been brought in. V walked to the armoire to gather clean sleeping clothes and headed to the bathroom thinking that his tea could wait until the morning and a glass of fruit juice would do for the moment. He stopped briefly at the kitchen and poured some juice in a tall glass, bringing it with him to drink it behind the bathroom's closed door. The Wurlitzer's cycle was over and his home was quiet and yet humming with light energy he had never been able to produce by himself. Even the bathroom lights seemed warmer than he could remember.

The "ninja suit" turned out to be filthier than he feared and he peeled it off his body as quickly as possible. He pushed it into a plastic bag and only then dared put it inside the laundry hamper on his way to the shower. The water was wonderfully warm and the smell of the soft soap was soothing to his senses. He washed quickly to save time and afford spending a couple minutes under the hot waterfall, simply enjoying the feeling. He counted five minutes in total and stopped the relaxing current as he reached for a thick towel. The bathroom floor was cold and he had forgotten to bring his slippers but he didn't care; he was used to cold floors and in a few minutes he'd be in bed, comfortable and warm beyond his wildest expectations dating a few months back when he still had no knowledge of his skinny beast's existence.

He reached inside the medicine cabinet and picked a lovely group of pills, all of different colors, sizes and shapes, meant to keep his mind quiet. It was a little early for his next fix but he'd hate to wake up after a few hours of sleep to the sound of a choir of annoying voices. He swallowed the pills all at once with help of half a glass of juice and emptied the rest to make sure the pills slipped smoothly into his stomach. He toweled his lean body to satisfaction and spread a very fine layer of oil all over his skin, a small but easy to handle annoyance that prevented a good deal of discomfort. He put on his second favorite pajamas and a pair of soft socks, making sure everything was in place before leaving the bathroom. He turned to the wall mirror and looked at his image for a second time in less than thirty minutes. Something had changed. Now only something had changed, it had changed to his benefit. He looked again, trying to discover what made the lines of his body seem more harmonious and the effect was so curious that he decided to strip again and see if it was produced by the lights and the soft fabric of his sleepwear. He was about to pull the trousers down his legs when the girl called him from the bedroom, effectively postponing his observation. He rearranged his clothing to perfection and exited quickly before she grew impatient and came looking for him.

The night lights cycle that had been manually overridden because the girl had waited for him up returned to automatic with the flick of a switch and every room inside the Shadow Gallery returned to dark normalcy, the only exception being the main hallway that remained slightly lit, mainly to the girl's benefit. Thinking of her cheered him up and he couldn't remember feeling so pleased after doing something that didn't involve violence of some sort. It was stupidly… quaint and he loved it. He wondered if she'd noticed he looked different, perhaps he should ask her about it.

"Hiiiii, V!" She chanted as soon as he entered the darkened bedroom, already under the covers and beckoning him to join her. She'd cleared the mess as instructed and he could only guess where she'd put everything. She'd put on his old shirt back, still unaware of the fact that there were several small pajamas waiting for her inside the big canvas bag.

"Hello, mademoiselle. Ready for sleep?"

"Yup! And you?"

"Halfway there already…"

"We don't have to get up early in the morning, do we?"

"Not this time, little one. We can sleep late, until noon if we feel like it."

"Nice!"

The girl's possessive traits showed yet again and as soon as he'd slipped under the covers, she pushed and pulled, "rearranging" his limbs to her own benefit as if he were a large pillow. He let her do as usual, finding it amusing and strangely liberating, absentmindedly thinking that if anyone else tried to do the same, they'd end up smeared over the floor, the walls and probably the ceiling. The thought amused him and he suspected she knew somehow and enjoyed getting away with her mischief even more because of that. The small body leaned on him with complete familiarity and the girl inhaled his fresh smell deeply, perfectly happy and at ease.

"V?"

The girl called in the dark of the bedroom from her usual sleeping spot under his chin and pressed closer to his chest. V was half-asleep and heading rapidly toward complete unconsciousness with the warm little creature in his arms but he managed to slow the process down in order to remain coherent for a little longer.

"Hrm?"

"I… love…"

All of a sudden his brain was on alert, telling him to wake up at once and pay attention to every sound she made. Something big, something important was about to happen and he better be ready for the apocalypse or an alien invasion or worse. The wee vampire was about to declare something of extreme importance that could change their lives forever and the body containing an alarmed choir of heavily drugged voices was so disturbed that it had to skip a heartbeat or two, flooded by their confused anxiousness.

"… my new things."

Something screamed inside him and although he moved not one inch, he felt falling and falling into a dark well of disappointment he hadn't visited before. He had taken many blows before but nothing he'd experienced so far was nearly similar to the new pain he'd just been introduced to, just when he was so pleased with himself and ready to sink into peaceful sleep.

"Oh. Yes. Yes of course. You love…your new things. You are very welcome." He managed to reply right before she stirred to find a more comfortable position against him to abandon herself to sleep, oblivious to the chaos she had just created. He had been perfectly well not one minute ago but those five words she had pronounced with complete candor made him feel cheated and exposed somehow; she'd awoken by accident something so unfamiliar that he didn't even know what to call it and then she'd dropped it to the floor, probably breaking it in the process if he could judge by how much it was now hurting.


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Mademoiselle E

**Mademoiselle E**

**Chapter XIV**

V hated insomnia, especially the sort that alternated brief periods of twitchy sleep with long sleepless hours. He just didn't know what to do with himself, trapped in his own bed by what seemed a dozen delicate limbs that restricted him with childlike fierceness. On his recent bachelor's past he would have turned the lights on to forget about trying to force sleep in favor of working to make something useful out of wasted time that would otherwise become a burden but now he hesitated, thinking that if he even tried to move he'd disturb the girl's sleep and he wasn't in the mood to deal with that female monster clinging to him, probably busy sucking the life out of him, like a Lovecraftean spawn.

He also hated not knowing exactly why he was so uncomfortable. For the tenth or eleventh time he retraced his steps trying to find evidence that would solve the mystery and still he hadn't managed to untangle a mess that apparently existed only in his head and gave him a stomachache. Everything had been on schedule, absolutely perfect. He was supposed to be content. He was supposed to be asleep!

He wasn't.

There was something bitter in his mouth he didn't want to pay too much attention to but it was familiar and tasted like anger, which was altogether inappropriate. He also hated it when his emotions weren't coherent with what had triggered them, and he cried when he was supposed to laugh or vice versa. It hadn't happened in a long time and it didn't feel quite the same but still… he wasn't in a good mood.

He sighed, not without frustrated caution, always mindful of the little thing clinging to his neck. It was completely useless to even consider asking for inner input given the drugged condition of practically everyone inside his mind articulate enough to weave two thoughts together and even if he managed slapping awake someone in there, he'd probably get an annoying "We warned you…" for an answer, instead of something useful he could work with.

No, under the current conditions he couldn't rely on anyone but his higher, rational self, in practical terms the sum of every fragment with a voice that lived inside him, what he liked to call the "Director's cut". Over the years he'd often meditated on the matter of his fragmentary minds, sometimes considering them just "his sort of thing" and sometimes finding them worthy of a psychiatric text book. At the end he decided every functional human individual should have some version of _Them_ and while regular people experienced discreet inner dialogues, he had "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" playing inside him. He grinned briefly to himself, proud if his peculiarities even at that time of the night when the rest of his mood was so very rotten.

Perhaps he had forgotten something. The grin faded and once more his mind's eye dissected the last hours, adding even more details to fill out gaps here and there, trying to reconstruct a faithful version of reality as it happened outside and beyond his perception, even if nothing seemed to help him find order within chaos.

Nothing. Nothing logical, sensible, at least barely reasonable however strange to explain his turmoil, as if he had been just handed a brand new set of problems he'd never played with before…

Idiot, he concluded, he'd been trying to unravel an emotional mystery using the wrong tools. He could rewind the picture over and over and whatever understanding he missed wouldn't be there. His solution wasn't in the surface; therefore it had to be somewhere else. Well, at least that was something, he'd have to switch gears and use his emotional memory instead. If only he weren't so tired and his emotions weren't so… his.

The little female thing stirred in her sleep, startling him with unexpected force. He panicked, fearing the ungrateful little bitch would wake to pour him another shot of vile on the rocks. With a twist. His body remained very still, and concentrated on enforcing the very same deliberately soft breathing that helped to make him practically soundless in the world above. The girl resettled next to him and sighed content, as content as he couldn't be.

Unfair.

The mattress was stiff. His back was throbbing with merry little pains. The pillow under his head was full of imaginary lumps that offended his skull as much as… she had offended him. Oh well, it wasn't much but at least he'd made some progress, although he didn't know what she had possibly done to offend him so.

He felt like an idiot, like a complete imbecile. The child had been perfect, nothing but charming and more than appropriately pleased with his performance. She'd refrained from destroying his home while he was gone, she'd greeted him warmly, -the pouncing and cloaked scare he could easily forgive- she'd smiled and grinned and giggled as he hoped she would, she'd been surprised when she was supposed to, she'd said "thank you" the correct number of times and in the perfect tone of voice, she hadn't caught him changing masks, she'd graced him with a fashion show as enjoyable and brief as he'd asked for, she'd picked up after herself as instructed… to sum up her behavior during the entire evening had been nothing but flawless, absolutely delightful. Then why, why, why he was so disappointed… At least he'd managed to keep his mouth shut; the only thing he'd need at that point was to make a fool out of himself. And she wouldn't deserve it, the little bitch.

Back to basics, he thought, remembering that he was used to chatting with his body to know with great accuracy if something ailed him. What the hell, he'd try anything. He breathed deeply to concentrate on the task he had performed hundreds, thousands of times in the past and focused on his toes, asking each one of them if they were hurt. Toes said no, they had been fine for a while, thanks for asking. V's attention moved up his body with painstakingly patience, asking the same question to each structure he could think of. The task helped him to calm down; -he was glad whenever something, anything, didn't hurt- finally giving him something sensible to work with. So far the latest edition of his list of injuries, acute or chronic, hadn't changed for worse and except for old aches here and there that would probably be with him forever, nothing seemed to be broken, not even torn. Only the stomach had something new to report; it was contracted, practically in a knot. Perhaps he had eaten something bad; maybe it was some mild poisoning he could easily correct with some basic antidote.

Images of a happy little face filled his mind, sneaking in while he was busy examining his guts and making his stomach drop yet again for no logical reason. It wasn't right that the girl's contentment made him so uneasy; it should have the opposite effect. Unfortunately it didn't and it made him wonder if he had finally managed to take one damned pill too many, just the one that would promote him from "flamboyantly unique" to "tediously insane". The thought made a cold shiver crawl up his spine. No, he was just confused, not broken beyond repair. At least not yet. It was just a matter of not having enough information to work with, nothing more.

The echo of a delighted squeal resounded in his mind, followed by two or three slurping little sounds produced by a small mouth attacking the sweet he'd taken from a glass jar next to the register at the shop, nothing but heartwarming, every-day sounds that in theory should soothe the soul with their quaint normalcy but in his confused state of mind had the devastating power of the trumpets of Jericho. V wondered again about all those pills…

No, no. It wasn't her doing anything to make him react in such an irrational way; he was surely misreading everything from top to bottom. It was difficult to breathe, he was literally drowning in unfamiliar emotions and no matter how hard he fought, it was getting worse and worse. He was so emotionally upset that everything triggered an exaggerated reaction and in such condition he'd only manage to stir his agitated emotions even further. He had already completed a full scan of his body and still nothing made sense, which only made him doubt his own judgment. A desperate thought crossed his mind; if fighting made him sink to the bottom, perhaps surrendering would help.

But… it was such an unnatural thing for him to do; he had never stopped fighting, he had seen over and over what happened when people surrendered and it terrified him far more than the certainty of impending death. All of a sudden the briefest mention of death chilled him to the bone, which was unsettling by itself. He'd never been afraid of death before, never. Now it didn't sound like a good idea at all.

Stop. Breathe.

He had to switch channels as soon as possible and dissect his feelings only once he'd calmed down. Having a plan helped to ease his worries and although he wasn't comfortable with just leaving things on the table without fixing the wiring, he settled for trying to get some sleep and analyze things again in the morning. Nighttime tended to make everything more dramatic, especially for him. Yes, in the morning he'd steal some time to vent and then think.

He also needed to… vent. He hadn't released any steam in weeks, being so busy looking after the girl. There was a chance that he was just feeling the effects of repressing himself for so long, after all in the past only bad timing and a temporary lack of resources had prevented him from crossing out names from his list, and his hard work now allowed him to actually schedule his visits instead of just waiting for the right time. He tried to think on such list for a moment, realizing he had actually missed two appointments already. Lazy, lazy, lazy. He should apply himself as soon as possible.

Only… he didn't want her to know about his life's work, at least not yet. He hadn't thought about that as carefully as he should, he'd dodged the issue on purpose every time something threatened to reveal that side of him. She was a peculiar and definitely tolerant child but she must have noticed one and a dozen and a hundred strange things already, things that in all honesty should be enough to make adults frown. Or cringe, better. He wondered what she'd say if she knew exactly what he was involved in. What if… no. What if she became afraid of him…?

The lithe body clinging to him stirred and another satisfied sigh escaped the sleeping caramel-colored lips, making him think that surely she hadn't even meant to make him feel miserable in the first place. Obviously she had no reason to do something like that. It was perfectly possible that she wasn't even aware, and that she'd fallen asleep in his arms thinking he was just as pleased. She murmured something against his chest, no doubt dreaming of things that made her giggle in her sleep. He could have sworn she was talking with someone, someone with the skill of telling her just what she wanted to hear. Someone with probably only a minute fraction of hell to spice up the stew, something he couldn't brag about. His senses started playing tricks on him, making him imagine the distinct smell of blood filling the room.

No, he couldn't let her see him like that, covered with someone else's blood and, grinning behind the porcelain grin, laughing out loud into dying ears. He was sure she'd manage to see him just the way he was and he felt the impulse to jump off the bed and run before she did. Yes, he had to send her away. School would be a good way to do it, some boarding school where she'd get to live a normal life, safe from his madness… His stomach felt like a twisting rope inside him, and he tasted a few drops of acid flowing up his throat. No. The thought of sending her away was immediately censored and discarded. It was plain stupid, so stupid. The little bitch was lethal and he had no heart to do anything about it.

He should get up and do something useful, anything. Pacing would do it. Pacing and throwing up but his body wouldn't obey. Why it refused to move…

Why, why, why… she turned in his arms, pulling his arm around her neck, tilting her head to listen to whoever visited her dreams, that someone who might have asked her a couple questions which she answered with a drowsy "you" a sleepy "yes" and a dreamy "mine". The words made no sense but they touched things inside, playing odd chords that produced unfamiliar, hypnotic music. He specifically recalled not hearing from her those three words, pronounced with such easy conviction and he hated lacking that memory, and then he blushed because he didn't know why.

For one brief second he regretted bringing her underground. He could have extracted her from the pile of rubbish and then taken her to the nearest hospital where someone would have taken care of her. Oh, but then he would have missed one and a thousand little things he'd only envied from afar with carefully repressed jealousy, and then he would have missed the generous armload of things he'd never imagined even existed but now occupied their own places within his scale of numerous obsessions.

Images of a little thing wrapped in his red kimono and playing in front of the mirror filled his mind and the thought of their inevitable fall into oblivion after she left, and later after he died, filled him with anguish. No, he'd have to find a way to save even his memories. The world should not forget beauty, especially –this- world, especially –this- beauty.

He was exhausted, simply drained. He was ready to surrender to sleep; he had already decided that despite the alarms going off, his physical body seemed to be perfectly capable of restoring its operational levels if he just stopped fussing. He'd examine his feelings in the morning, preferably after drinking a gallon of strong tea to clear his thoughts. He focused on pleasant things instead, like the freshly laundered sheets in his bed, the comforting smells of his bedroom, the stubbornly quiet aura of his home at that time of the night, even on the sleeping demon in his arms, dressed in his old shirt and his soft boxers, with her back pressed to his chest and snoring like a baby. He was tired; his muscles long empty of adrenaline and energy were starting to protest again, demanding to rest. Oh, he'd be sore in the morning. To sleep, perchance to dream…

A soft voice called from the dark where he was comfortable at last. It was warm and it was safe and although it was wrong to talk to strangers, he wanted to answer all the questions it might ask and share with it all the secrets that he knew.

If only he weren't so tired… it would be rude not to cooperate, as he had been taught, once upon a time at Larkhill, and worse, he risked not being asked ever again. The soft voice in the dark called out again, more persistent than before but just as sweet and tempting. "Come…" chanted the siren, demanding a reply.

Then he was afraid, and more than just a bit embarrassed. Perhaps he hadn't been addressed at all in the first place and he'd simply happened to intrude into someone else's conversation. He didn't want to be rude, that's the last thing he'd want. He should leave quietly, yes. Nobody would see him. Nobody ever did. Oh, but he loved chatting, he hated being left out. It would be nice to have a conversation; he should try harder to reply just in case.

"Just ask," He pleaded in his dream "and I'll say it…"

"Not yet" Whispered the sweet voice, neither refusing him nor accepting him. He was devastated, torn in half. "Sleep," said the sweet voice with the questions, enveloping him in a warm embrace, caressing his brow with gentle, soothing fingers, reassuring him and promising to chat with him as soon as he was rested.

It was a curious feeling; to be wanted but not just then. Maybe he just wasn't up to the challenge and that was the only reason for postponing his chat. Then he became aware of other voices, distant, almost hidden in the background but very much alive and alert. Someone else was there with him in the dark, someone familiar and faithful, keeping him company without even having to ask. One, two, three, and he forgot what number followed three but he didn't care, he was tired and he was certain they would answer on his behalf, as truthfully as he would and it did not matter if they talked, as long as they told the truth. It was so strange; the world of dreams. Things happened so differently there.

"Sleep," repeated the voice with the questions, and he obeyed, content like a well-behaved child who's just been promised a new toy if he remains quiet so the grownups can talk, thankful for being excused and promised a future conversation, not in the least ignored as he had feared. In his dream he rolled on his side and covered his head with a warm blanket to hide under another layer from everything around him, to let go to the lullaby of that sweet voice turning away from him to engage the other voices, saying "come…" , and "mine…" and then "yes…"

He heard the distinctive sound of weeping in a quiet corner of his mind, three or four helpless sobs exploding one after another in impossibly close succession, revealing they belonged to more than one sufferer. He decided after some thought that the group seemed very close, with each lending support to the others, sharing whatever misery ailed them. "No" they said, and then "never" and "leave."

Someone would leave… he didn't want anyone to leave. Nobody would leave, he had to stop them.

A discreet rustling of fabric sneaked from the waking world into his troubled sleeping mind, tugging gently to awaken him. His lungs expanded with the clear intent of giving him enough oxygen to make the transition and then he was back in his darkened room, confused and with his heart pounding in his chest. It took him several seconds to realize his head rested on his favorite pillow and his arms squeezed a bundle of sheets and blankets. He released the soft fabrics at once, puzzled by the wrongness of their presence. The girl was gone and somehow he'd ended up hugging a bunch of stupid lifeless bedclothes that in all honesty, made a very poor replacement. For one second he panicked, almost certain of having imagined he'd once shared his home with another living human being but his senses caught up with him in time to confirm that her fresh smell was everywhere around him, proving beyond any doubt that she was real. She had always been real; no drug he knew could fake it.

V sighed relieved, sinking deeper into the warm mattress, his dream already forgotten. But wait, his mind reminded him, the girl was still missing, gone from where she was supposed to be and that wasn't acceptable. Another suspicious sound resounded like thunder inside his quiet room, alerting unnatural senses that in the last weeks had lacked entertainment and now wanted to take every single possible chance to go out hunting. Anything would do, really, even a tiny mouse. His ears became the main source of information in the darkened room and his whole being became something that existed only to hear. Another rustling of fabric… poorly concealed breathing… the steady beating of a vigorous heart. Something warm was under the bed and it was very much alive. His nose twitched, recognizing the familiar smell and he remained perfectly still, trying to fool the intruder that seemed quite busy with the canvas bad he had pushed under the bed. He smiled broadly, too focused on the amusing events to remember why his sleep hadn't been a peaceful one.

The caterpillar had slipped out of bed while he slept and she was busy under mattress and bed frame with her hands inside the bag, obviously trying to guess what secret treasures were still inside it without waking him or turning the lights on. Poor thing, he thought, she wasn't very good at stealth. He'd have to teach her a few tricks; she'd be almost good enough to fool him. But just almost good enough, he wanted to stay one step ahead. The raiding of his canvas bag stopped abruptly and although he had remained still, breathing slow and soundly to fake being still asleep, he feared she had caught him pretending. The small body under the bed shook spasmodically two or three times and at the end the poor girl couldn't help sneezing. For once he congratulated himself for procrastinating in dusting properly under the bed and a muffled curse produced by a little mouth that should know nothing of such words made him forget about stealth and burst out in laughter.

"V!" Shrieked the small thief, banging her head on the bottom of the bed, caught in fault with her hands on things that although were technically hers, she hadn't been given officially and therefore didn't quite belong. She crawled from under the bed, mewling dramatically to get V's attention and make good use of her little accident to distract him from her curiosity-induced mischief as she climbed back on the mattress, looking for comfort like a toddler who's just discovered furniture was harder than it looked.

"Ouch! Ouch!"

"Poor darling! Come here, my little rat. It seems you've had a little accident."

The rascal didn't miss one second and dived into his arms to be comforted even when it had been her own curiosity that had caused the minimal pain she was now profiting from with operatic splendor. Of course he didn't mind following the script, his lost guest had been happily found and all was well with the world. Something itched in the back of his mind but something –had- to be boiling there always so he chose to ignore it. He could already tell they would have a lovely day ahead, counting he managed to recover his vigor. He was in far worse physical shape than he'd thought, after just one night out he was exhausted.


End file.
